"If you don't have money to buy a ball, you can borrow someone else's ball to play with."
Kawamoto Kazuki's statement was not sarcastic; it seemed to be simply stating a fact.
He has also seen many kids who love playing basketball but are short of money.
Going to a local basketball court to play for free is usually their choice.
But to Hisashi Mitsui, those words were undoubtedly an insult.
To steal someone else's ball to play?
He's Hisashi Mitsui!
Two years ago, he was a prominent figure in Kanagawa Prefecture's junior high school basketball scene, the ace of Takeishi Junior High, the MVP of the prefectural tournament, and the focus of the spotlight...
In the eyes of this ridiculously strong first-year student.
He had somehow become a clueless kid on a street basketball court, desperately waiting for someone to give him a chance to shoot!
"Who--!!!"
Hisashi Mitsui suddenly raised his head, and the emotions he had been forcibly suppressing erupted like a volcano.
The veins on his forehead bulged, and he even temporarily forgot the terrifying strength that the boy in front of him had displayed that afternoon.
He took a step forward, almost touching Kawamoto's face, and roared with all his might:
"Who the hell wants to play basketball at a local court?!"
"Look carefully! I am Hisashi Mitsui!"
He pounded his chest violently, as if trying to awaken the name and glory that had been dormant for two years.
"I want to play in real matches! The county tournament! The national tournament! I want to join the Shohoku Basketball Team! I want to go back there! You bastard!!!"
He roared until he was hoarse.
Two years of self-abandonment, two years of aimless drifting, two years of regret, and that almost pathological longing for the basketball court...
All of it poured out with that out-of-control roar.
However, this intense emotion is unleashed directly.
Kawamoto Kazuki's reaction, however, was chillingly calm.
He did not retreat an inch despite Mitsui's approach.
He simply lowered his eyelids slightly, calmly meeting Mitsui's somewhat distorted face with his deep, pool-like eyes.
Kawamoto Kazuki's lips moved almost imperceptibly.
The sound remained steady, without increasing in volume by even a fraction.
I said that.
"Go if you want to."
"I'm neither the captain nor the coach."
"I can't decide."
After he finished speaking, he didn't look at Mitsui's frozen expression.
He strode past Hisashi Mitsui, who was blocking his way, and headed towards the remote convenience store.
Hisashi Mitsui stood frozen in place, his chest heaving with excitement, the flush of anger still lingering on his face.
This guy named Kawamoto Kazuki...
Doesn't he understand what he's trying to say?
Is his head made of wood?
"I did not mean that!"
Mitsui quickened his pace, walking alongside Kawamoto, in an attempt to explain.
"I mean, I was the MVP of Takeishi Junior High two years ago, the one who led the team to the prefectural championship! I should have been with Shohoku, dominating the national tournament alongside Akagi!"
"I haven't truly left basketball for a single day in the past two years! I secretly went to watch Shohoku's games, I know what they lack! I can shoot, I can score! Now that my injury is healed, I really..."
He looked at Kawamoto, his eyes filled with an almost pleading certainty, "I just need a chance to go back!"
"A reason to face Akagi, to face... Anzai!"
"Actually, from the very beginning..."
Mitsui began to recount his experiences over the past two years, his inner feelings, and why he sought trouble with Kawamoto.
Kawamoto Kazuki still didn't look at him, and didn't slow down his pace.
Until Mitsui temporarily finished his monologue, which was a mixture of pride, regret, and longing.
Kawamoto Kazuki spoke calmly, "A very rich experience."
His evaluation was devoid of any emotion.
"But I'll say it again, it's no use talking to me. I need to go to work, not play ball."
These words were like a bucket of ice water, pouring it once again on the glimmer of hope that Mitsui had just ignited.
He froze, staring at Kawamoto's face, which seemed unmoved by anything, a nameless anger and a deep sense of powerlessness welling up inside him at the same time.
Doesn't this guy have any feelings?
After all I've said, even setting aside my dignity, this is his reaction?
"Etc!"
He gritted his teeth and revealed his true purpose, "I... I hope you could... help me sound out their intentions? About Akagi, or... or..."
"... To Anzai..."
When he mentioned Anzai, his voice visibly stammered.
Because that person was both of paramount importance to him and made him ashamed to face them.
He finally finished speaking, his voice so low it was almost inaudible.
"You don't need to say much, just... just mention it and see their reaction... okay?"
Kawamoto stopped in his tracks.
It wasn't because of Mitsui's request, but because the convenience store where he worked was already within reach.
He turned around to face Mitsui, the streetlights making his tall figure appear even more imposing.
"You brought people to cause trouble for me this afternoon, why should I help you?"
Mitsui was speechless, his face flushing red.
Kawamoto looked at him and continued in that calm tone, "Besides, you seem to give up on basketball very easily."
"He gave up a better court and teammates to repay a debt of gratitude, abandoned his so-called beloved basketball out of spite, and wanted to cause trouble for the Shohoku Basketball Team out of resentment... In short, he had too many thoughts on his mind."
Vivid faces flashed through his mind.
Hanamichi Sakuragi, that simple-minded guy who, despite countless missed shots, still raised the basketball with unwavering hope and shot again...
Captain Takenori Akagi, that tough guy who was eliminated in the first round of the prefectural tournament for two consecutive years, still harbors the dream of dominating the nation...
Kaede Rukawa, that super rookie with solid technique and amazing talent, who, despite being incredibly sleepy, has never been late or missed a single training session...
Ryota Miyagi, the point guard who, despite his height being questioned by everyone, still relied on his speed and ball-handling to make offensive rhythm his pride...
Kiminobu Kogure, a pillar of strength who, despite his mediocre talent, always smiles and encourages others...
Yasuharu Yasuda, that thin, quiet, and often overlooked backup point guard...
Tetsushi Shiozaki, that gentle senior who was always the last to leave and turn off the lights during practice, even though he could only play for a few minutes each game...
Satoru Kakuta, the warrior who stepped in at center when Akagi was injured, and who still opened his arms to an opponent many times his size...
Kentaro Ishii frantically waved a towel during the match because he knew that the bespectacled boy might look like him when he entered the game...
Toki Kuwata, that enthusiastic boy who spent most of his time retrieving balls and always serving the team...
Satoru Sasaoka, the first-year rookie who often cheered from the sidelines, always had a glint in his eye.
And then there's myself, enduring monotonous physical training under heavy loads day after day.
On the red soil of basketball, they are all the same kind of people.
Not for the sake of the spotlight, but for the pure yearning deep in our bones.
Not for the sake of victory itself, but for the sake of meeting a stronger version of myself.
Passion is never loud, and perseverance always yields results.
"Basketball..."
Kawamoto took one last look at Mitsui.
There was no disdain in his eyes, only questioning.
"What does it mean to you, really?"