Haruki Amamiya

The morning sun cast a gentle glow over the streets as Rando Gensei and Hinata Kurobane walked toward Shirosaka High School. Their second day promised to be as eventful as the first, with basketball practice scheduled during lunch break. After yesterday's intense tryout match, both had been placed in the Second String—an impressive achievement for first-year students.

"Did you finish the math homework?" Rando asked, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

Hinata nodded, his massive frame casting a long shadow across the sidewalk. Though still a man of few words, he seemed more at ease with Rando after their shared meal and the sister incident at the café.

As they rounded a corner, a familiar voice called out to them.

"Gensei! Kurobane! Wait up!"

Daigo Hoshikawa jogged toward them, his school bag bouncing against his hip. His face was flushed from the exertion, but his expression brightened upon reaching them.

"Morning," he greeted, slightly out of breath. "Didn't know you two lived in the same neighborhood."

"Just found out yesterday," Rando replied with a smile. "Kurobane's family recently moved here."

Daigo's eyes widened as he looked up—way up—at Hinata. "That's cool! We should all walk together from now on."

The three fell into step, with Daigo filling the silence with cheerful chatter about classes and clubs. As they approached the school gates, Rando cleared his throat, his expression turning serious.

"Hey, Hoshikawa," he began, his tone sincere. "I wanted to thank you for yesterday's game."

Daigo blinked in surprise. "Thank me? For what?"

"I know I played selfishly," Rando continued, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. "I didn't consider the team enough. That was my fault, and I wanted to apologize."

The words hung in the air between them. Daigo's steps faltered, clearly caught off guard by the sudden apology.

"What? No, no!" he protested, waving his hands frantically. "If anything, I should be apologizing to you! I was too weak and couldn't support you properly. That's why you had to play alone."

Rando stopped walking and turned to face Daigo directly. The smaller boy fidgeted under his gaze, but Rando's expression wasn't intimidating—it was earnest.

"You're not weak at all," Rando said firmly. "As a team, you were important—a great strength. If I had to choose between playing with the seniors or playing with you, I'd choose you every time."

Daigo's eyes widened, a flush spreading across his cheeks that had nothing to do with physical exertion. He scratched his cheek awkwardly, a nervous laugh escaping his lips.

"You don't have to say that," he mumbled, though his expression betrayed how much the words meant to him.

"I mean it," Rando insisted. "We're teammates now."

Hinata, who had been silently observing the exchange, placed a massive hand on Daigo's shoulder. The gesture, simple as it was, carried its own weight of acceptance.

Daigo's embarrassment transformed into a beaming smile. Despite knowing that Rando might just be being kind, the appreciation for his efforts and hard work filled him with renewed determination. Here was Rando Gensei—clearly a basketball prodigy—treating him as an equal, as someone worthy of respect.

"Thanks, Gensei," he said finally, his voice steady despite the emotion behind it. "That means a lot."

The three continued toward the school building, their conversation shifting to lighter topics. As they changed from their outdoor shoes to indoor slippers at the lockers, Daigo's admiration for Rando was palpable. Despite his extraordinary talent, Rando remained friendly, humble, and completely lacking in arrogance—qualities that made his abilities even more impressive.

Class 1-A was already buzzing with activity when they entered. Students clustered in small groups, sharing stories and laughter before the bell rang. The trio made their way to their respective desks, depositing their bags before gathering around Hinata's seat.

Though they tried to ignore it, they couldn't help but notice the curious glances directed their way—particularly at Hinata, whose towering height continued to draw attention. Rather than letting it bother them, they focused on their conversation, discussing favorite foods, family stories, and basketball preferences.

"I can't believe you've never had takoyaki," Daigo exclaimed, looking scandalized at Hinata's admission.

"Never needed to try," the giant replied with his characteristic brevity.

"That settles it," Rando declared. "After practice someday, we're taking you for takoyaki. It's a cultural requirement."

Their friendly debate about the best street food in Japan was interrupted by a melodious voice that somehow managed to cut through the classroom chatter.

"Gensei-kun?"

The three boys turned to find themselves facing a group of girls, led by a striking figure that commanded attention without effort. Nozomi Kirishima stood before them, her posture perfect, her uniform somehow looking designer-made despite being identical to every other girl's in the school.

At 170 centimeters, she was tall for a Japanese girl, though she still had to tilt her head back slightly to meet Rando's eyes. Her long black hair cascaded down her back in glossy waves, framing a face that could have graced magazine covers. But it was her eyes that truly captured attention—sharp, intelligent, and currently fixed on Rando with undisguised curiosity.

"Yes?" Rando responded, a polite smile forming on his lips.

Nozomi's friends clustered behind her like attendants to royalty, watching the exchange with barely concealed excitement. As the undisputed queen bee of Class 1-A—beautiful, intelligent (ranked second academically in their year), and from a wealthy family—Nozomi's attention was a form of currency in the social economy of high school.

"I heard you played basketball on par with the seniors yesterday," she said, her tone carrying a hint of challenge beneath its silky surface. "Is that true?"

Rando's smile didn't waver, but something flickered in his eyes—amusement, perhaps, at her transparent attempt to establish dominance in their first real interaction.

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear," he replied easily. "The seniors are on a completely different level. We just had a few good moments."

Nozomi's perfectly shaped eyebrow arched slightly. "Is that so?" she said, her tone suggesting she wasn't entirely convinced. "And here I thought you might actually be something special."

With practiced grace, she flipped her long hair over her shoulder, the movement sending a waft of expensive perfume in their direction. The gesture was clearly rehearsed, probably from countless romantic dramas—a dismissal designed to leave an impression.

"Well, if you ever decide to be more than ordinary, let me know," she added, turning away with a flourish that sent her hair brushing across Rando's face.

The scent was undeniably pleasant—jasmine with hints of vanilla—but Rando couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped him as she walked away, her hips swaying with deliberate emphasis. Her friends followed in her wake, giggling and casting glances back at the boys.

"What was that about?" Daigo whispered, his eyes wide.

Rando shook his head, still smiling. "Just someone playing adult games with a child's understanding," he said quietly, more to himself than to his friends.

There was something almost endearing about Nozomi's transparent attempt at creating a dramatic moment—like watching a little girl trying on her mother's high heels and makeup. For someone who had lived an entire previous life, such high school power plays seemed charmingly naive.

Before they could discuss it further, the bell rang, and their homeroom teacher entered the classroom. The morning passed in a blur of lectures and note-taking, with Rando occasionally catching Nozomi glancing in his direction, her expression unreadable.

When lunchtime finally arrived, the trio wasted no time heading for the gymnasium. The prospect of basketball practice had them moving with eager steps through the crowded hallways.

"I wonder what we'll be doing today," Daigo mused as they approached the gym doors. "Since we're officially in the Second String now."

The gymnasium was already alive with activity when they arrived. Seniors and first-years who had been at yesterday's tryout were gathered on the court, some stretching, others passing basketballs back and forth in casual warm-ups.

Renji Fukuhara spotted them immediately and jogged over, his captain's presence commanding even in practice clothes.

"Good, you're here," he said, nodding in approval at their punctuality. "Change into your practice gear and start with ten laps around the gym. We begin conditioning today."

The trio headed to the locker room, changing quickly into the standard practice uniforms—navy shorts and white t-shirts with the Shirosaka High emblem. As they emerged, Rando noticed several unfamiliar faces among the players.

"Second-years," Daigo explained, following his gaze. "They weren't here yesterday because they had some kind of special training session."

The newcomers moved with the confidence of experienced players, their bodies showing the results of dedicated training. Rando's analytical gaze assessed them automatically, noting their movements, builds, and the way they handled the ball.

Most seemed solid—good high school players with proper fundamentals and decent athleticism. But one figure stood apart from the rest, both literally and figuratively.

Leaning against the wall near the entrance was a boy of average height—perhaps 178 centimeters—with a blue hood pulled over his head and headphones covering his ears. Despite his casual posture, there was a coiled energy about him, like a predator at rest but always alert.

When the boy finally pushed off from the wall and removed his hoodie to change, a collective sigh rippled through the small crowd of female students who had gathered in the gymnasium's viewing area. His body was lean but perfectly muscled, with the defined physique of someone who trained with scientific precision rather than brute force.

"Amamiya-kun! We love you!"

"Haruki-sama, look this way!"

"Be my boyfriend, Amamiya-senpai!"

The shouts echoed through the gymnasium, causing several players to roll their eyes or shake their heads in amusement. The object of their affection, however, seemed completely unaffected—neither embarrassed nor encouraged by the attention. He simply continued his preparations, movements efficient and focused.

"That's Haruki Amamiya," Daigo whispered, his voice tinged with awe. "Second-year point guard. They say he's already being scouted by professional teams."

Rando observed the player with renewed interest. There was something different about him—a quality that set him apart even from the talented seniors they'd faced yesterday.

 [System Analysis: Player Detection]

 [Name: Haruki Amamiya]

 [Position: Point Guard (PG)]

 [Year: 2nd Year]

 [Height: 178 cm]

 [Special Talent: Playmaker Assist – master of passing and setup, controlling game flow like a pro star. Has potential to awaken second talent, Court Master.]

Rando's eyes widened slightly as the system continued its analysis.

 [Strength: B]

 [Speed: A+]

 [Dribbling: A+]

 [Passing: S]

 [Shooting (Mid-Range): B]

 [Shooting (3pt): B]

 [Stamina: A+]

 [Defense (Perimeter): B+]

 [Defense (Paint): B]

 [Jumping: A]

 [Basketball IQ: A+]

 [Presence/Aura: A]

 [Extra Info: Haruki is the team's offensive brain on the court, handling tempo, creating openings, and providing deadly accurate assists. While he's not the flashiest scorer, his refined passing and read of the game put him on par with seasoned professional stars.]

Rando couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. An S-rank in passing—the S-rank ability he'd encountered besides his own and the coach . This world truly was dominated by basketball talent, and his KnK System wouldn't guarantee easy dominance.

The challenge excited him more than he could express.

"Let's go," he said to his friends, his eyes still fixed on Haruki. "Ten laps to start."

As they began their run around the perimeter of the court, Rando felt a familiar thrill coursing through his veins—not just the anticipation of basketball, but the promise of growth, of competition, of pushing beyond limits he hadn't yet discovered.

In this world of basketball monsters, he would need every advantage his system could provide. And even then, victory was far from assured.

The thought made him happier than he'd been in either of his lives.