The gym was alive with chatter, the sound of sneakers squeaking on the polished floor, and the faint echo of bouncing basketballs. Coach Yamamoto stood at the center, clipboard in hand, his voice cutting through the noise.
In the stands, a small group of eight people held up a large banner that read Organized Sekiro High School Basketball Fans. Hiroto sat in the middle, a notebook in hand, ready to take notes.
"Alright, everyone, time for the skill tests! We've seen what you can do physically. Now, let's see what kind of ballers you really are."
Finally, the real stuff begins.
Akira stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders back, trying to get into shape.
I'm not here just to pass this test; I'm here as a coach. I've got a lot of experience from playing and training in the U.S. If I want to dominate Japan, I need a solid team by my side. Players with potential. Those two weirdos caught my eye during the physical tests, but now let's see what they can do with a ball in their hands.
The first test was ball handling. Akira moved to the front of the line, dribbling the ball with ease. His movements were fluid and effortless. He changed directions rapidly, his control tight, the ball an extension of his hand. The other players watched, a mix of awe and anxiety on their faces.
"Hey, Hiroto! Is this the blonde model you said could be a good basketball player?" one of the fans asked.
Adjusting his glasses with a mischievous grin, Hiroto replied, "Of course! I told you he had potential!"
When Kenta stepped up to dribble, he was like a tractor. His change of direction wasn't fluid—it was harsh but powerful. Once he changed course, nothing could stop him, and his steps made the court vibrate.
He's got massive explosiveness. Presence. He needs to work on his footwork, though. It's still too obvious where he's going. He reminds me a bit of Charles Barkley.
One of the fans in the audience whispered.
"Is this guy fat?"
Kenta's ear twitched, and he turned his head toward the whisper.
"Are you blind?! This is pure muscle!" he yelled, striking a bodybuilding pose that startled the crowd.
Renji was the complete opposite of Kenta. His dribbling was fluid, his movements smooth and graceful. He was fast, agile.
This guy... He's got almost infinite stamina, he's quick, and he can dribble like that? He's exciting, imagine the last quarter when everyone is tired and this beast isn't even sweating. For now, I don't see any notable weaknesses…
After several ordinary performances, a shy boy named Yuto Takahashi stepped up. His dribbling was terrible, almost as if he were trying to lose the ball himself. He looked awkward—a tall kid with bangs that completely hid his eyes.
He's struggling, probably because he had a growth spurt recently. I went through that too… Luckily, I had Coach Mark to guide me. This is something we can fix.
The test changed. Coach Yamamoto placed barriers shaped like defenders in the middle of the court. He instructed the players to line up behind the three-point line and pass the ball as soon as he called out.
The first to go was the kid who had barely passed the physical tests, saved only by his stamina. He walked onto the court with an unexpected confidence, a kind of aura surrounding him despite his height and fragile physique.
"Pass!"
The boy stopped instantly, bending his body backward. He passed the ball behind his back with surprising power, sending it straight into the coach's hands. Coach Yamamoto looked impressed.
"Jeez!" Akira exclaimed, drawing startled looks from those around him.
I got a bit too excited—He covered his mouth, eyes wide with admiration. I didn't even see that pass coming—excellent. Did he realize the coach is left-handed? He put the ball in the best possible position for a shot.
Akira smiled.
These guys are raw gems. They all have potential—potential that I can help them achieve.
He nudged the boy next to him.
"What's that guy's name?"
"K-Kazuya?"
"Thanks."
Kenta's passing test was a little disappointing. He stuck to straightforward passes and clearly needed to work on his footwork. Renji, however, was impressive again. While not as creative as Kazuya, his movements were natural and fluid, always playing with a touch of elegance.
The shooting test was monotonous. Akira nailed 9 out of 10 shots, missing one because he got distracted by the assistant who had helped him sign up for the club when they exchanged glances before a pitch. Still, he maintained his first-place standing.
Focus Akira, stop being a loser—he said to himself while smoke came out of his ears—
In the background, a small group of dedicated fans, mostly seniors from the school team, had gathered to watch the tryouts. They whispered among themselves, commenting on each player.
"Damn, that blonde kid is something else. He's just blowing everyone away."
"Yeah, but look at that Kenta guy. He's a beast. Can you imagine trying to drive past him?"
"That Renji kid, though… he's like a machine. Doesn't slow down, doesn't miss a beat. That's the kind of player you want in the last quarter when everyone else is gassed."
Coach Yamamoto blew the whistle, signaling the end of the shooting test.
"Great work, everyone! We've got a lot of talent here today," he said, though his eyes were fixed on Akira. "But the real challenge is yet to come. Now, let's see how you perform in a game."
Akira felt a rush of adrenaline as he moved towards the court. This was it—the moment he'd been waiting for. The moment to show that he wasn't just the best in drills, but on the court where it mattered most.
I'm not here to fit in with the team. I'm here to lead.