Volume 1
Chapter 1: A one-sided fateful encounter (Part 3)
●The Junior High Basketball Club Girl Is Sometimes Weird ●○●
I’d just finished my university classes for the day.
Since I only had second and third periods, it was a little past 3 p.m. when I wrapped up. Though it was nearing evening, the sunlight—hardly springlike—beat down relentlessly on the ground. Where had that perfect spring weather gone?
I still had some time before my part-time job, so I decided to follow my usual Friday routine: head home briefly, then make my way to the nearby park.
Even though the peak of the heat had passed, it was still pretty warm. I pulled a towel from my black backpack with blue accents and wiped the sweat off my face.
Just a little farther to my destination.
“Alright, made it.”
The park was lush with greenery, and no matter when I came, the air always felt fresh. Tucked away in one corner was a lone basketball hoop.
“In this world, it’s kind of a pain that you can’t just casually play sports…”
Before I ended up here, I’d always been pretty into sports. I liked staying active, and I’d even put some serious effort into basketball and baseball back in the day. Naturally, even after coming here, I’d get the itch to play every now and then, but…
“The community open gyms are always full of women, so it’s kinda hard to join in… and the sports clubs? I’m not even sure they’re serious about playing.”
I’d once thought about checking out the badminton club that Koumi was part of, but for some reason, she strongly insisted I steer clear. At university, I didn’t have any friends closer than her, so when she told me to drop it, I didn’t have much choice but to listen.
“Well, at least here I can play without worrying about all that. Plus, the lack of people is a bonus.”
On weekends, this park often had other visitors, but on weekdays, it was quiet. I set my backpack down on a bench and took out my basketball.
I bounced it against the ground two, three times, checking that it hadn’t lost any air.
“…Alright.”
I’d pumped it up properly at home, so it seemed fine. The ball bounced back nicely, feeling familiar in my hands. I turned toward the hoop, ready to take my first shot of the day.
And then—
“E-excuse me, Onii-san!”
“Huh?”
I’d just gotten into my “the left hand’s only for support” shooting form when a cute voice called out from behind me, freezing me in place.
Standing there was a girl who clearly looked ready to play basketball, clutching a ball under her arm with a bold stance. Her short, glossy black hair was accented by a lovely blue floral hairpin that stood out beautifully.
She wore a black shirt designed for mobility, with pink lines adding a touch of cuteness and girlish charm. Despite her small stature—barely reaching my chest—she stood with an adorable determination, as if she were trying her hardest to look down at me.
“T-today’s the day I’ll beat you! And then… I’ll take this spot from you!”
“Well, well, if it isn’t the little squirt.”
“I’m not a little squirt! Yuka’s a junior high student now!!”
This kid—Maeda Yuka, to be exact—goes way back with me, all the way to just after I transferred here. Desperate to play basketball, I’d bought a ball and scouted out a place nearby where I could shoot some hoops. That’s when I found this spot.
Ever since then, I started coming here more often. It turns out Yuka had been playing basketball at this spot for quite a while, and since we both tended to show up in the late afternoon, our schedules began overlapping more and more.
At first, it was just one-sided communication from me—like, “Feel free to use it, I’m heading out anyway!” But one day, she came up to me and asked, “Want to play basketball together?” That’s when I felt like we really started to get closer.
And then, at some point, it somehow turned into this whole thing where “if I win a match, I get ownership of this spot.” …Even though, you know, this is a public park.
“T-today, I’m definitely taking this place back…!” she declared.
But honestly, I didn’t mind these little exchanges with her.
“Hahaha, have you ever even beaten me once, little lady?” I teased.
“T-today, I’ve got a secret plan!” she shot back.
When we first met, she was in sixth grade; now she’s in her first year of junior high. I’m a first-year university student, so there’s really no reason I’d lose to her. After all, basketball has that absolute wall called “height,” and as long as that’s a factor, it’s basically impossible for Yuka to beat me. …Or so you’d think.
(This kid is seriously crazy good, though…)
I don’t fully understand the standards of this world, but Yuka is insanely skilled at basketball. In a place where women’s pro sports seem to get more attention than men’s, maybe there’s a general perception that girls are better at it. Even so, Yuka’s talent stands out way beyond that. Right now, I can still scrape by with the ridiculous advantage of our height difference, but once she hits her growth spurt and reaches an average height, it’s anyone’s game. Actually, no—I’d definitely lose.
“W-what are you spacing out for?! W-we’re doing a 1-on-1, right?!” she snapped.
Yuka has this funny way of flipping between bold and timid. Her innocent, jade-green eyes wavered faintly, probably because she’s still figuring out how to handle the distance between herself and an older guy like me. But that’s part of what makes her so cute.
“Alright, fine,” I said with a grin. “But you’d better warm up properly, okay? Don’t want you getting hurt.”
“O-of course I will! I mean, I’ve already done it!” she replied confidently.
“Huh? Didn’t you just get here…?” I asked, puzzled.
Where exactly had she done her warm-ups?
“J-just come on, let’s do this!” she insisted.
She grabbed her ball and sent it my way with a bounce pass. At the same time, she dropped into a defensive stance. Looks like I’d be taking the first move.
We’re using her ball, of course—it’s the right size for her. An adult-sized ball would be a bit too big for a junior high girl, after all.
“That was sudden… Alright, here I go!”
I caught the ball and started dribbling, closing the distance between us. The slightly smaller ball didn’t throw off my handling at all.
In an instant, I cut to her left side.
“I won’t let you through…!” she shouted.
What’s incredible about her is her agility. She darted in front of me, blocking my path with lightning-fast movement.
“This is as far as you go!” she declared.
“Whoa!”
But I’d expected her to keep up this much—we’ve played enough 1-on-1s for me to know her moves. So I went with a sudden burst of speed, followed by an abrupt stop. Then, I shifted straight into my shooting motion and sank a mid-range shot.
“Alright, that’s the first point for me~ …Huh? Yuka-chan?”
I picked up the ball after it swished through the net and turned to pass it back to Yuka, only to see her frozen in place.
Come to think of it, I’d just taken a jump shot right in front of her. Even if she couldn’t stop it, I figured she’d at least try to jump and block it, but there hadn’t been any movement like that.
“…What’s wrong?” I asked.
“So fast…” she mumbled.
Her face looked a little red. Wait—could she be feeling sick?
“Hey, your face is all red. Is it heatstroke or something? Wanna rest on the bench?” I suggested, concerned.
“N-no, no, no, no! It’s not that! I’m fine! J-just hurry up and give me the ball! I’ll tie it up right now!” she stammered.
Flustered, she hurriedly pattered back to the starting spot. What was going on with her?
I sent the ball her way with a bounce pass, and this time, I took up a defensive stance. I couldn’t let my guard down—seriously, if I slacked off, she could blow right past me. I lowered my posture, ready for her drive.
“Here I go…!” she announced.
No sooner had she said it than she darted sharply to my left—her dominant-hand side.
“That’s a move I know!” I countered.
Without hesitation, I moved to block her path. I’d seen this pattern of hers plenty of times before—it was practically burned into my brain by now.
But then—Yuka shifted gears. From that right-side drive, she pulled off a lightning-fast crossover, throwing her weight to the left.
(She’s so fast… but I’ve seen this one too!)
It was one of Yuka’s go-to moves when she couldn’t break through on her first try: the crossover. Switching directions so suddenly made it tough to react to at first glance.
But I’d seen it before.
“That’s my Onii-san for you…!” she exclaimed.
Except today, Yuka had something more up her sleeve.
“What the…!”
After the crossover, she’d already turned her back to me.
(…A roll!)
It was a technique where she used her body to shield the ball, spinning to slip past her opponent—a roll. With her incredible quickness, Yuka was about to leave me in the dust—or so it seemed.
“Ah…!”
Maybe she really hadn’t warmed up enough after all.
As she executed the roll, her feet tangled, and her balance faltered.
“…Gotcha!”
My reflexes kicked in—and I’d say they were pretty darn good.
I lunged sideways to catch her as she started to fall, positioning myself to cushion her before she could hit the ground. I took the brunt of the impact for her.
The world flipped upside down in my vision, and I squeezed my eyes shut with a grunt.
The heavy thud against my back made me wince, but only for a moment.
“Ow… You okay, Yuka?”
“…”
The only sound was the faint tap, tap of the ball bouncing as it rolled toward the hoop.
“Yuka…?” I ventured.
Our current position was, uh, not exactly ideal.
She was completely sprawled on top of me.
…Man, she smells nice.
Wait, no! This is bad! This totally makes me look like some kind of lolicon creep!
“Hawa…” she let out softly.
“…Hawa?” I echoed, confused.
She was light enough that it didn’t bother me at all, but I really needed her to get off soon… or so I thought. Finally, Yuka started to stir.
“Hawawawa!”
“Huh? What’s wrong!?” I blurted out.
Her face turned beet red, and she suddenly looked like an electronic device that had just short-circuited.
Still lying on top of me.
“What the heck…?” I muttered.
With no other choice, I hoisted her onto my back and carried her over to a bench in the shade. I laid her down on her back, folding my towel to use as a makeshift pillow under her head.
Looking at her like this, I couldn’t help but notice how perfectly proportioned her features were. Her eyelashes were long, her skin smooth and radiant. Right now, she still had that youthful innocence about her, but it was easy to imagine her growing up into an absolute stunner.
(Wait, why am I calmly analyzing this…?!)
I didn’t actually know that much about her yet. She was at an age where it wouldn’t be surprising if she had a boyfriend. Kids these days—especially middle schoolers—seem so grown-up already (firm conviction).
“…Guess I’ll shoot around for a bit.”
For a while, I fanned her with a notebook I’d pulled from my backpack, using it like a makeshift fan. Eventually, the redness in her face started to fade, so I decided to head back to the court for some solo shooting practice.
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