The final buzzer had sounded. The scoreboard glowed brightly—Teikou 102 - Kyoto 64.
The game was over, and Souta Fujimura sat on the bench, chest rising and falling as he caught his breath.
The weight of what had just happened settled in. This wasn't just another match. This was his first official game as a starter, and he had proven himself.
He could still hear the distant murmurs of the crowd, their voices blending together in excitement. He could feel the sweat sticking to his skin, the dull ache in his legs from pushing himself to the limit.
And yet, deep inside, something felt... incomplete.
"You did good out there."
Souta glanced up to see Kuroko standing beside him, towel draped over his shoulders. His expression was neutral as always, but Souta had spent enough time with him to recognize the subtle signs of approval in his voice.
"Thanks," Souta exhaled, leaning back. "Still… I feel like I could've done more."
Kuroko blinked, then looked toward the scoreboard. "We won by almost forty points. That's more than enough, isn't it?"
Logically, yes. They had dominated. But Souta wasn't thinking about just this game—he was thinking about the future.
"I don't just want to win, Kuroko," Souta admitted. "I want to be able to stand on equal ground with all of you—with Aomine, Akashi, and the rest. I don't want to be just another player on the team. I want to be… a real threat."
Kuroko was quiet for a moment, then said, "Then you will have to keep improving. The others… they're not stopping either."
Souta nodded. He knew that better than anyone.
Aomine's instincts and speed.Kise's limitless potential.Midorima's perfect shooting.Akashi's overwhelming control.Murasakibara's sheer dominance.
The Generation of Miracles was evolving.
And if he wanted to truly belong, he had to keep up.
The team had returned to the locker room, the air buzzing with energy from their victory.
"Man, that was fun!" Kise stretched, cracking his neck. "I barely even had to go all out, though."
"You say that now," Aomine smirked, throwing a towel over his shoulder. "But when's the last time you even won against me in one-on-one?"
Kise scowled. "Tch, just wait. I'm getting closer, Aominecchi."
Midorima adjusted his glasses, ignoring their banter. "Victory was expected. Kyoto Academy was never a real threat."
Souta listened quietly, absorbing everything.
Then, a voice called out—Akashi's.
"Fujimura."
The room fell silent.
Souta turned to face the team captain. "Yeah?"
Akashi's sharp gaze met his. "You did well today. But this is only the beginning."
It wasn't just praise. It was a warning.
Souta clenched his fists. "I know."
Akashi nodded, seemingly satisfied, then turned away.
The others slowly resumed their conversations, but Souta's mind was already racing.
This is only the beginning.
The gym was empty, except for one person.
Souta stood alone, bouncing a basketball between his hands. The echo of the dribble filled the silent court.
He had come back after everyone left. He couldn't rest—not yet.
The game had exposed his weaknesses.
His Phantom Step was effective, but it wasn't enough to shake off truly skilled defenders like Kirishima.His passing and control had improved, but he still wasn't at Kuroko's level in misdirection.His scoring ability was solid, but against monsters like Aomine, he wouldn't be able to keep up in a one-on-one.
If he wanted to be a true threat, he had to refine everything.
He took a deep breath and started moving.
Dribble, cut, drive, shoot.
Over and over.
Each movement sharper than the last.
Every shot smoother, every step quicker.
Minutes turned into hours.
By the time he finally stopped, his shirt was soaked with sweat, his legs burned, and his breathing was ragged.
But a smile crept onto his lips.
He was improving. Slowly, but surely.
And he wouldn't stop.
The next day, practice resumed as usual—until Coach Shirogane dropped a bomb.