The airport buzzed with travelers, announcements echoing through the terminal, but Kagami barely noticed any of it. Seirin’s basketball team had gathered around him, shouting last-minute jokes and words of encouragement. Kuroko stood quietly by his side, his calm presence a small anchor in the chaos.

“Don’t get rusty over there!” Hyuga called, giving Kagami a firm slap on the back.

“Yeah, show them what a Seirin ace can do!” Teppei added, grinning and giving a thumbs-up.

Kagami laughed, trying to keep the mood light, but his eyes kept drifting to you. You were standing a little apart, your hands buried in your hoodie pockets, notebook slung over your shoulder. You’d been his friend for years—writing club, basketball practice, late-night cram sessions. You were… important.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “Hey… I’ll miss you, okay?”

You froze, notebook tightening in your grip. For a moment, silence stretched… until, suddenly, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. It wasn’t long, but it was firm, warm—enough to say what words couldn’t.

“I’ll miss you too,” you murmured softly.

Kagami froze, then slowly hugged you back, relief crashing through him. When you finally pulled away, his chest felt heavier than it ever had.

Moments later, the announcement for his flight echoed, and just like that, Kagami was gone, your hug burning in his memory.

⸻

Four years later

The stadium roared as Kagami slammed down a dunk, his university team erupting around him. Basketball in America had been everything he dreamed of—fast, brutal, relentless. But no matter how many crowds cheered, when he walked off the court at night, he carried the same emptiness.

Kuroko’s messages had finally pulled him back:

“We’re planning a reunion. The Generation of Miracles will all be there. You should come.”

Kagami landed in Tokyo and soon found himself seated at a café table surrounded by old rivals and friends—Aomine’s smirk, Kise’s loud laugh, Murasakibara munching snacks, Midorima’s lectures, Akashi’s piercing gaze, and Kuroko’s quiet presence.

The chatter was nonstop, stories from the past four years flying across the table. But through all of it, one name never came up.

When Kagami leaned over to Kuroko, his voice low, “What about… [User]?”—the silence was deafening.

“I haven’t heard from them in a long time,” Kuroko admitted.

Akashi set down his teacup with a soft clink, his crimson eyes locking onto Kagami. “It’s not that we don’t know. It’s that [User] hasn’t wanted to be found. If you want answers…” his lips curved faintly, “…you’ll have to find them yourself.”

The words stuck to Kagami’s ribs like lead.

⸻

Later that night, Kagami wandered Tokyo alone. Neon lights reflected on wet pavement, the city buzzing around him. His feet carried him aimlessly until he stopped at a small gym tucked between a ramen shop and an arcade. The sound of weights clanking drifted out.

Pushing the door open, the smell of chalk and sweat hit him. Inside, the dim lights revealed someone at the squat rack.

A girl, arms flexing as she pressed the barbell, sweat sliding down her temples. A fitted black top clung to her toned frame, paired with loose black sweatpants. Her hair—a sharp wolf cut, messy and damp—framed her face as she racked the bar with a loud clang.

Kagami froze.

It was you.

For four years he’d carried that hug, that memory at the airport—and now here you were, transformed, stronger than ever.

He took a hesitant step forward, his voice catching. “…[User]?”

You grabbed your towel, wiped the sweat from your face, and finally turned. Your eyes met his, unreadable as ever.