Chapter 123: No Longer a Drill…

The gymnasium was packed when Akira arrived the next morning, already changed into practice gear. The entire basketball team had gathered for their first official practice under the new co-captain structure.

Coach Yamada stood at center court with a whistle around his neck and a clipboard in hand.

“Listen up! I know there’s been drama with the co-captain situation, and honestly?” He paused, looking around to see if he was making a point. “I don’t care. On this court, you work together or you sit on the bench. Understood?”

A chorus of “Yes, Coach!” echoed through the gym.

Kenji was the last to arrive, making an entrance like he wanted everyone saw him. He glared at Akira, not even trying to hide his dislike. The team noticed right away, and the air in the room became tense and uncomfortable.

Up close, Akira noticed Kenji looked worse than usual: dark circles under his eyes, jaw clenched so tight it must hurt. The stress of losing his sole captain position was clearly eating at him.

“Kanzaki, Takahara… center court,” Coach barked.

They approached from opposite sides, the team forming a loose circle around them. Several players exchanged glances, clearly expecting drama.

“You two are co-captains now,” Coach said firmly. “That means you lead together. I want to see collaboration, not competition. First drill, you’ll demonstrate proper defensive positioning. Kanzaki, offense. Takahara, defense.”

Kenji’s expression flashed with something dark… eagerness, anger, maybe both. This was his chance to reassert dominance, to prove he was still the alpha.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, co-captain,” Kenji said, the title dripping with sarcasm.

Akira caught the ball Coach tossed him, dribbling once to test the feel. The gymnasium went quiet as everyone watched.

“He’s going to try to hurt you,” Ai warned. “His pride is wounded. Expect dirty plays.”

“I know.”

Akira took his stance, ball in hand. Kenji crouched into defensive position, but Akira could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers twitched. This wasn’t about basketball anymore.

This was personal.

“Ready?” Coach asked.

Akira nodded.

The whistle blew, and Kenji lunged.

The drill was simple: try to get past Kenji’s defense to the basket. But the moment they started, it was clear this wasn’t just a drill.

Kenji’s defense was aggressive, borderline illegal. He crowded Akira’s space, hands grabbing at his jersey, using his body to push and shove. The referees should have called fouls, but since this was just practice, the Coach let it slide. He wanted to see how they would deal with it.

“That all you got?” Kenji muttered under his breath, shoving hard against Akira’s shoulder. “Without your little magic trick from the tryouts, you’re nothing.”

Akira activated Combat Precognition without thinking: 0.5 seconds of future sight flickered across his vision. He saw Kenji’s next move, a hard shoulder check designed to knock him off balance.

He adjusted smoothly, slipping past like water.

“Lucky,” Kenji hissed.

But Akira was curious now. He activated a scan on Kenji while dribbling, wanting to see what was really driving his aggression.

[TARGET: KENJI TAKAHARA]

[EMOTIONAL STATE DETECTED:]

Primary: RED (Humiliation) – Intense, burning

Secondary: PURPLE (Fear) – Deep-seated, gnawing

Tertiary: GREY (Inadequacy) – Chronic, foundational

[CORE INSECURITY IDENTIFIED: “If I’m not the best, I’m worthless”]

The insight hit Akira hard. Kenji’s entire identity was wrapped up in being superior.

Without it, he was adrift, terrified of being revealed as ordinary. Every aggressive move, every sneer, every attempt to dominate… it all came from a place of desperate fear.

Akira could exploit this easily. Use Heart Strings to twist those insecurities, amplify the GREY inadequacy thread until Kenji broke completely. One tug and the former captain would crumble.

[SYSTEM PROMPT: CHOICE DETECTED]

[A: DOMINATE – Activate Aura of Dominance and humiliate Kenji publicly. Show everyone who the real alpha is. Reward: +100 PP, Team Respect +20, Kenji’s Status Destroyed.]

[B: MANIPULATE – Use Heart Strings to amplify Kenji’s insecurities subtly, breaking his confidence over time. Reward: +750 PP]

[C: BUILD – Take the high road. Use genuine sportsmanship to defuse the situation and strengthen team bonds. Reward: +150 PP, Team Unity +15, Coach Approval +10.]

Akira made his choice. C.

As they reset for another round, Akira deliberately missed an easy shot, letting it bounce off the rim. “Damn. Good defense, Kenji. You read that perfectly.”

Kenji blinked, surprised. “What?”

“I said good defense. You positioned well, forced me into a bad angle.”

The team murmured, equally surprised. This wasn’t how these confrontations usually went. Kenji’s expression flickered between confusion and suspicion. “Are you mocking me?”

“No.” Akira passed him the ball. “Your turn on offense. Let’s see if I can match your defensive intensity.”

They switched positions, but this time, Kenji’s movements were stiff and uncertain. For some reason, the compliment had thrown him off his rhythm.

When Kenji drove toward the basket, Akira defended hard but fair… no jersey grabbing, no cheap shots. Just solid basketball. Kenji scored, and Akira nodded.

“Nice finish. Good footwork.”

“Stop doing that,” Kenji snapped.

“Doing what?”

“Being… whatever this is.” Kenji’s voice dropped lower. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to make me look bad by being nice.”

“I’m just playing basketball,” Akira said calmly. “Like Coach wanted. Collaboration, not competition. Remember?”

Kenji stared at him, jaw working. Through Heart Strings, Akira watched the emotional threads shift… the RED humiliation dimming slightly, the PURPLE fear spiking, then settling. A thin thread of YELLOW (confusion) appeared.

“Again,” Coach called. “Switch back. Kanzaki on offense.”

This time, when they matched up, Kenji’s aggression was different. Still intense, but more focused on actual basketball rather than trying to hurt Akira.

Progress.

As practice continued, Akira paid attention not just to the physical game but to the emotional undercurrents of the entire team. Heart Strings revealed the complex web of relationships:

The starting guard (Takhan): Deep ORANGE respect for Akira, thin RED resentment toward Kenji. Wanted change.

The power forward (Soita): Mostly GREY neutral threads, just wanted to win games. Pragmatic.

The shooting guard (Kimura): PURPLE intimidation toward both co-captains, but slowly shifting to cautious YELLOW hope around Akira.

The bench players: Mixture of GREEN envy and ORANGE excitement. They saw opportunity in the new leadership.

Akira made small adjustments: praising Takhan when he executed a perfect pick-and-roll, offering genuine tips to Kimura about his shooting form, creating moments of connection with everyone.

“Soita, that rebound was textbook. Good positioning.”

“Kimura, try rotating your elbow in more. Yeah, like that. Much better.”

“Nice hustle, everyone. Let’s run it again.”

He was building the team not through dominance but through bonds. Each compliment, each bit of advice strengthened the emotional threads connecting them.

Kenji noticed. His strategy had always been to rule through fear and superiority. Seeing Akira’s inclusive and supportive approach clearly confused him. The former sole captain kept glancing over, trying to figure out the angle.

By the end of practice, the team’s energy had shifted. They were working together better, the resentment fading into something more functional. Even Kenji had stopped actively trying to sabotage Akira.

“Good work today,” Coach said, blowing his whistle. “That’s what I want to see. Kanzaki, Takahara… see me before you leave.”

The team dispersed toward the locker room. Akira grabbed his water bottle, noticing movement in the gymnasium doorway.

Mia stood there, obviously waiting for him. She waved, her face bright with pride.

He walked over. “How long have you been watching?”

“The whole time.” She grabbed his arm possessively. “You were amazing out there. The way you handled Kenji, the way the team responded to you… it was like watching a completely different person from the guy I met months ago.”

“I’m just trying to do my job.”

“No, you’re doing more than that. You’re leading.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I’m so proud of you, Akira-kun.”

“Thanks.” He glanced back at Coach, who was still talking to Kenji. “I should probably—”

“I know, I know. Coach wants to talk.” She released him reluctantly. “I’ll wait for you outside. We can walk home together.”

As Mia left, Akira noticed another figure in the hallway beyond her. Rina, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. She looked different somehow… her posture more confident and her eyes sharper.

The Soul Seed integration.

Their eyes met across the distance, and Rina gave him a small nod. Not a wave, not a smile. Just acknowledgment. She understood now, he realized. Could probably sense the supernatural energy in the room, feel the bonds connecting people.

She pushed off the wall and walked away without a word, disappearing around the corner.

“She’s adapting well,” Ai observed. “The seed enhanced her natural perceptiveness. She’ll be a valuable ally.”

“Kanzaki!” Coach’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Get over here.”

Akira jogged back to center court where Coach and Kenji waited.

“That was good work today,” Coach said. “Both of you. Kanzaki, your leadership style is exactly what this team needs. Takahara, you adapted well after a rough start.”

Kenji said nothing, jaw still tight.

“Now listen,” Coach continued. “We have our first game next week. Against Shibuya High. They’re tough, well-coached, and they’re going to target our new co-captain structure. Try to exploit any weakness between you two.”

“We’ll be ready,” Akira said.

Coach looked at Kenji. “You agree?”

A long pause. Then: “Yeah. We’ll be ready.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

As they walked toward the locker room, Kenji suddenly spoke. “I don’t get you.”

“What?”

“You could’ve destroyed me out there. Embarrassed me in front of everyone. Why didn’t you?”

Akira considered his answer. “Because that wouldn’t help the team. And despite everything, you’re still a good player. We need you.”

“Need me?” Kenji laughed bitterly. “I’m replaceable. You proved that at the tryouts.”

“No one’s irreplaceable, Kenji. Not me, not you. But that doesn’t mean we’re worthless. It just means we work better together than alone.”

Kenji stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head. “You’re weird, Kanzaki. I can’t figure you out.”

“Good,” Akira said with a slight smile. “Keep me on my toes.”

—

Later, walking home with Mia clinging to his arm, Akira’s phone buzzed.

A message from an unknown number: “Interesting practice today. You’re quite the team player. – A.S.”

Ayame Shinomiya.

His blood ran cold. She’d been watching the practice? How? From where? And how did he get his number?

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep