Chapter 18: The Weight of a Final Shot

To be honest, sports held little interest for me.

Yet, after years of watching various matches with Watanabe-san and Hayato, I had come to appreciate the competitive spirit, even if only a little.

The absolute refusal to lose, the burning desire to win, the unwavering goal of claiming first place—these were the tenets.

Whenever Hayato dribbled the ball and found himself surrounded, the cheers of girls next to me would erupt, solely for him.

They cared not for the outcome of the game; their eyes were fixed only on Hayato.

It might sound rather condescending to suggest they were somehow defiling the spirit of sportsmanship, yet I found myself unable to judge such a notion, for I was no different from them.

Perhaps my intentions were even purer, or perhaps, conversely, less so?

The girls from the volleyball club, at the very least, appeared in the gymnasium to engage in their club activities.

Meanwhile, I sat in the spectator stands, and save for abstaining from shouting Hayato’s name, my gaze never once strayed from him.

Such behavior seemed entirely normal, didn’t it?

It was akin to a scene in a movie where an inconspicuous extra appears, and you suddenly recognize them as someone you know.

Even if the camera was focused on the protagonist’s close-up, your attention would inadvertently drift to that familiar face.

On the court, the rhythmic thud of the basketball hitting the ground, the swift scuff of sneakers against the floor, and a loud shout from not too far away—

“Hayato, here!”

Perhaps everyone knew that if Hayato seized an offensive opportunity, trouble would surely ensue, so the opposing team’s strategy was to minimize his chances of touching the ball.

Failing that, they would at least try to impede his movement, preventing him from reaching the basket on the other side.

The basketball arced diagonally towards the voice, landing precisely in the hands of a teammate in a white uniform on the far side.

Then, bathed in the gymnasium’s overhead lights, the orange-red basketball soared like a flying tangerine, passed far across to the left side of the court.

Seeing this, the black-uniformed players tasked with blocking Hayato abandoned their pursuit, swiftly retreating to their defensive positions.

Such a long-distance pass carried a significant risk of failure, and indeed, the basketball bounced once on the ground before being intercepted by a black-uniformed defender.

It should have been the black team’s turn to attack, but after several rapid exchanges of the ball between different players, the situation shifted quickly, and the white team once again seized an an offensive window.

The score on the board currently stood at 40:40, with only ten minutes remaining until the end of the game, signifying a do-or-die moment for both sides.

“Hayato!”

Seizing a momentary gap, the basketball shot out like a cannonball, settling firmly into Hayato’s hands.

I glanced at the timer; only three minutes remained.

Whether for a decisive offense or a reluctant draw, the psychological pressure on the person holding the ball in these final moments was immense.

Success would bring forth the cheers of the crowd.

Failure would invite their scorn.

Glory and disgrace, determined in those fleeting seconds.

The black team’s strategy reverted to defending Hayato, yet he was still half a court away from the target basket.

At this final juncture, with both physical and mental energy dwindling, breaking through their defense would be an exceedingly difficult feat.

With my own stamina, I would likely be utterly exhausted within ten minutes of the game’s start.

Yet, observing everyone on the court, they all seemed to retain a final burst of fighting spirit.

Schools with higher academic deviation scores were often perceived to harbor more bookworms.

Shinonome High certainly had its share of ordinary students like me, who expended all their energy just on studying.

However, many of the top-ranking students were adept at balancing academics, sports, club activities, part-time jobs, and more.

I could never fathom how they managed it all.

Consequently, this school often achieved excellent results in various competitive events.

Even in their first year, Shinonome High’s basketball club repeatedly brought honor to the school.

Hayato had, of course, dedicated a great deal to this, but I believed it was more so that Hayato had become a benchmark for everyone, relentlessly pursued by his peers.

The pressure of having a companion far superior to oneself was no less daunting than that of entrance exams.

I understood this more clearly than anyone else in the basketball club.

That boy named Kenichi sat on the opposite side of the spectator stands, at the furthest possible distance from me.

An ice pack rested on his foot as he silently watched the game, his expression unreadable.

I had overheard Hayato on the phone, mentioning that the basketball club president initially wanted Kenichi to go home and rest; upon arriving at the gymnasium, I saw them arguing.

However, after an initial flash of anger, Kenichi had remained silent.

At some point, he had moved from the locker room to the prime viewing spot in the stands.

“A super long-range three-pointer!”

“It’s in! The score is now 40:43!”

“Game over!”

How annoying! Hayato was far too good at showing off.

I watched, utterly dumbfounded.

Listening to the shrieks of the volleyball club girls beside me, I unexpectedly felt a surge of excitement myself.

Just moments before, I had found their noise utterly irritating.

Now, however, my attention was solely on Hayato as he high-fived his teammates.

A few bold girls stepped forward, each offering Hayato a bottle of mineral water.

The blush on their faces elicited a chorus of jeers from the other basketball club members, though no further actions were taken.

Everyone seemed accustomed to such scenes.

Yet, my heart swelled with an imbalance.

“You, do you always get to flirt with girls after every club activity?”

I asked Hayato, my voice laced with unmistakable jealousy.

‘I rarely even saw scenes like this in manga!’

‘Such a rose-tinted youth was unfolding right beside me.’

As I spoke, a bottle of room-temperature mineral water flew towards me, and I hastily reached out to catch it.

The other drinks, those given by the girls, Hayato had distributed among the other players on the court.

Upon receiving them, they couldn’t help but playfully thump Hayato’s shoulder.

It made me want to punch Hayato too.

“These are all from the teacher; they were just in the locker room.”

Hayato sat down beside me, unconcerned.

“It’s not the same, is it?”

I sighed.

“A drink handed to you by a girl and one you fetch yourself are two entirely different beverages.”

‘One bottle was imbued with sentiment, tinged with a girl’s affections for a boy.’

‘The other, however, served no purpose beyond quenching thirst.’

“Kenichi-kun, are you feeling better now?”

Beyond Hayato, there was one other person who received a girl’s concern.

“Still, you really must take care of yourself.”

“I think Kenichi-kun is very handsome, you know.”

‘Kenichi-kun, have you betrayed the revolution too!’

‘I had thought we belonged to the same world.’

‘No, it was Kazuya who had misled me all along.’

‘He had made me believe Kenichi disliked Hayato because Hayato stole the girls’ attention.’

‘Now it seemed Kazuya was simply unpopular with girls himself.’

I let out a long breath.

‘If I could also become someone everyone looked forward to, would I then be able to enjoy such treatment?’

After Hayato returned to the locker room and changed back into his school uniform.

Hayato carried his backpack and a bag in his hand, which likely contained his freshly changed jersey.

Stepping out of the school gates, dusk was beginning to settle.

I walked beside Hayato, the evening breeze carrying a slight chill.

I checked my phone notifications; no one had sent me any messages.

After adding Hasegawa-san as a friend that morning, I learned her name was Hasegawa Yui.

Even her emoji stickers were all of Magical Girl Sakura Tsui.

I wondered what her expression would be if she knew Shiraishi-san was her favorite idol.

Meanwhile, many of the group chats I had joined were already enthusiastically discussing the upcoming premiere of *Magical Girl Lelouch*.

Suddenly, I remembered I hadn’t told Hayato about the two movie tickets I’d bought for the weekend.

But just as I was about to speak, a pair of brown cat eyes appeared from the alley around the corner, revealing a small, completely black cat, as adorable as a plush toy.

“Ren, there’s something Kisa and I discussed, and we absolutely have to tell you.”

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