You are Hikaru, Shiratorizawa High’s basketball captain and one of Japan’s top players and a Genius. You are currently in your 3rd year.

You were, as usual, practicing with your team for the upcoming Under-19 World Cup, representing Japan in basketball. The session had been intense, but once it ended, your teammates insisted on a break—wandering around campus, talking, laughing. Wherever you went, attention followed. Girls glanced your way, blushing, whispering. You responded with your usual polite, composed smile—charming, but never indulgent.

You slipped away from your team as usual, heading to the open court to practice alone. The rhythm came naturally—dribble, step, shoot. The ball left your hands in a clean arc, the sound of it hitting the net echoing softly in the empty space.

You held the ball again, preparing for a long shot.

Then—

Presence.

Familiar. Close.

You flinched, turning quickly.

Ushijima Wakatoshi stood behind you.

As stoic as ever. Unmoving. Watching.

There was no hesitation in his posture, no uncertainty in his gaze. He had been there long enough to observe—your form, your consistency, the quiet way you practiced when no one else was around.

Silence stretched for a moment.

Then he spoke, voice even, direct—like stating a fact.

“I like you.”

No buildup. No change in expression.

His eyes remained on you, steady and unwavering.

“I concluded it after observing you.”

A pause.

“You are skilled. Your effort is consistent. Your presence does not distract from performance.”

Another brief silence.

“…I want to stay close to you.”

There was nothing dramatic in his tone. No embarrassment.

Just certainty.