Chapter 3

It was after practice, the first day club activities had resumed after midterms, and the joy of having the tests over and done with had made Akira Kagiura really energetic. He’d been down in the dumps. He worked and worked, and for every time things went well, there was another moment that tormented him with some kind of problem. Kagiura was still just in his teens, but he had dedicated no small part of his life thus far to basketball. More often than not, his failure to grow taller and faster had bothered him. He’d had something of a complex about his height, which was no taller than average for his age, and he’d been known to heave a sigh when he saw the price of shoes that fit his feet. He’d changed teams because he hadn’t been satisfied with the quality of the coaching, and he was devastated whenever he felt he hadn’t done well enough in a game. Nonetheless, he’d already been scouted by several schools during his middle school days, and he had to admit that he’d never imagined he would have a new team member who hadn’t arrived on an athletic recommendation get ranked just as highly as him. It hurt. It burned, and he couldn’t stand it. It felt like he’d been slapped by a humiliation designed to cure his arrogance, and the blood had rushed to his head. During the second half of practice that day, it had been all he could do to keep up with the guy. He was a first-year, too, yet he was over 180 cm—a good ten centimeters taller than Kagiura. True, Kagiura was still having his growth spurt, but at the moment, he was losing to this guy. He knew that the body you were born with wasn’t the same as your talent; the world wasn’t that simple. But even Kagiura could tell—could feel—that this guy, who’d been a sprinter on the track-and-field team in middle school, would become an expert basketball player as he practiced. He was—to Kagiura’s chagrin—just getting started. What a new player really lacked was experience. As he learned team play and strategy, he would become a great teammate; there was no doubt. But… “You’re both exemplary first-years.” That’s what the team seniors had said. That was their evaluation. “This sucks…” It was hardly unusual for perfectly capable athletes to get into school via the general entrance exams. But that didn’t change how much Kagiura had wanted to be the standout player in his year. Kagiura stopped for some ramen near the train station to chase the gloom away before heading to the dorm, and when he got back, dinner was nearly over. Normally, he changed his clothes before he went to the cafeteria so that everything stayed clean, but today, there he was still in his basketball uniform. He took a quick look around but didn’t see Hirano anywhere. Guess he’s already eaten, he thought ruefully. A little too scared to just ask his roommate to join him, he took a tray and found an empty seat. With all the working out he’d done, Kagiura should have been able to eat about as much as he wanted, but the chopsticks felt heavy in his hand. He’d ordered a normal-size bowl of rice, but even that felt like a lot, and as he worked his way ever so slowly through it, all the students around him finished their meals and left one by one. Kagiura didn’t exactly have time to hang around, since he could only use the bath during the time allotted to first-years. Test results still hadn’t come out, and surprisingly, he had no homework, so this should have been a day to kick back and relax, but instead he found himself finishing his food just before closing time, hastening back to his room before they kicked him out of the cafeteria. He felt lighter as he came through the door, calling out a greeting. His room felt like his place, his home, in a way that the dorm as a whole didn’t. It was almost tangible, something in the air like a relaxed, gentle feeling that seemed to be a part of the space. “What’s the matter, Kagiura? You seem kind of out of it. Feeling sick?” Hirano asked from his desk, where he was studying. Kagiura had come into the room and was just standing there, without even setting down his bag. “Huh? Aw, nothin’. I mean… It’s nothing.” Maybe I look a bit cagey, he realized, and quickly set the bag down, then put his uniform blazer on its hanger. It was bad enough to be walking around sulking, but to have Hirano, who had nothing to do with the basketball team, worrying about him—that was too much. “Upset stomach?” Hirano asked. “Kind of feels that way.” Kagiura’s stomach had felt heavy and queasy, yet he’d eaten more than he really wanted and was now suffering the consequences. He supposed that counted as an upset stomach. He had a bad feeling indigestion was in his future. “Geez, Kagiura, you look like death. Doesn’t seem like you’ve caught a cold… What happened?” Their eyes met. Kagiura glanced at the clock. Ten more minutes until the first-years could use the bath. “I don’t want to talk about it. It’s embarrassing.” Just one more push, and he felt like Hirano would get it all out of him, but from sheer stubbornness, he resisted. He was a bit too young to be completely independent, but he did try his best to be self-reliant. He was living in a dorm, after all. He begrudged the idea of telling Hirano, who wasn’t even an athlete, that his pride had left him annoyed and depressed that his teammates hadn’t fed his ego. Kagiura had come to this school thinking he could carry the basketball team, and that dream still burned in his heart. To whine about it now would be to let that dream die without even fighting for it, and he didn’t want that. Hirano wouldn’t leave him alone, though. “You can be embarrassed here. I won’t tell anyone.” Guess I can’t insist on having it my way, Kagiura thought. If this person was going to reach out a hand to him, he couldn’t just stay silent. Once he gave in, his only concern was the time. Hoping to get the conversation over with before he missed his chance to bathe, he reluctantly started to talk. “There’s this other first-year on the basketball team. He’s more than 180 cm tall, and he just started playing ball this year, but he used to be on the track team, so he can really run, and he’s getting better and better at handling the ball.” He didn’t feel like singing the guy’s praises, but somehow good things were all he could think of to say. “Yeah?” “And during practice today, the team captain told me and him that we were the top two from our year on the team, and I mean… I came here on a basketball recommendation, and I’m being told I’m no better than some guy who took the general exam, and it just stung. We’re not close enough for me to know him that well, but I can tell from our practice sessions how good he’s getting, and I know guys who throw themselves into it are only going to get better, so I figure we’ll probably be playing games together next year. It’s great to have someone like that for a teammate, but at the same time, it sucks, too. It sucks that I can’t seem to set myself apart. I wanna be a player no one can match, but this guy’s got me on height alone!” Kagiura was quite long-limbed himself, but when faced with an opponent ten centimeters taller than he was who also knew how to move, he was at a distinct disadvantage. That’s just how basketball was. This new guy hadn’t been chosen to be part of the scrimmage games yet, but it was obvious that when he learned tactics, he had plenty of room to grow and would show them all what he could do. The team figured Kagiura had come to them in good enough shape to play immediately, and he would be on the bench as a backup in next month’s games, but at the same time, the team had a pretty deep roster and he didn’t think he would actually get a turn on the court. If he had to stay on the bench, the gap would only grow. Build was a part of your talent, and it wasn’t easy to find an environment where excellent teammates could put you through your paces. When it came to Kagiura, who stood out even against more experienced players, this new guy had no end of praise for him. But today, that had rubbed Kagiura the wrong way. It was like the guy was saying, I’ll catch up to you real soon. If I was still on my middle school team, I’d probably be thrilled about him, Kagiura thought. They would have won even more tournaments together. “I can’t help but wonder why he was on the track team… If he was so interested in basketball that he decided to start in high school just because his track times weren’t getting any better, why wouldn’t he have started in middle school, you know? I’d never take it out on him, but… Well, the frustration made me stress-eat a bit, and now my stomach’s paying the price.” Kagiura felt like a kid complaining about this stuff, and he was fully prepared for Hirano to laugh him out of the room. Instead, Hirano sighed softly, making a sympathetic sound. “That’s rough, man. I can see why you’d be upset about him,” he said. “But there’s another difference between you two, Kagiura—how much effort you’ve put in over the years. That’s not a gap he’s gonna close in a few days. I’ll bet you’ve got a lot more experience in actual games than he does, too. As for your height… Hell, you’re still growing. Don’t sweat it.” “Yeah… Maybe…” Kagiura found that just having someone listen to his troubles had helped calm the storm within. Now he felt silly for having bothered Hirano with it. “It’s true. Effort is, like… It makes a difference because it’s tough to keep giving it, right? It’s like studying. Doesn’t matter if you’re smart—if you never study, you’ll stop learning at some point. A sports match really means pitting your practice and the talent you’ve polished against theirs…don’t you think? So it’s like this… While this other first-year is growing, you can do plenty of growing, too, Kagiura. Right?” Hirano was obviously thinking carefully as he spoke, and to Kagiura, his words were like cool water on a parched throat. Kagiura was almost frightened at how quickly Hirano seemed to have grasped the root of his smoldering frustration. Kagiura himself hadn’t been willing to go so far into it, and it made him more aware of the heat in Hirano’s gaze on him. “Thank you, Hirano,” he said after a moment, although he was feeling too shy to meet the other man’s eyes. When he checked the clock instead, he found it was already time for first-years to use the bath. He jumped to his feet.