JSWGAS Chapter 67

“Can I tell grandma anything?”

As Kokonoe Taka sat on the porch tying his shoes, his grandmother quietly walked up behind him and suddenly said, “Anything at all, even a complaint or two. Taka, don’t keep everything bottled up inside.”

Her gentle gaze fell on his back. “You’re an important member of my family,” she said solemnly.

She was perhaps one of the first to notice her grandson’s persistent low mood, but she hadn’t pried, seeing how Taka tried his best to appear cheerful every day. Until now, she finally couldn’t help but worry, unable to resist wanting to accept all his pessimistic emotions.

Kokonoe Taka opened his mouth, barely managing a breathy sound: “I…”

I’m fine.

“Don’t try to fool grandma with ‘it’s nothing’,” she interrupted Kokonoe Taka’s evasion. “Don’t be a tough guy at times like this.”

Kokonoe Taka sat on the floor, unconsciously tying and untying his shoelaces, repeating the process several times, enough to show his inner turmoil.

The porch was large. His grandmother took a few steps forward, sat next to him, tilted her head and looked at him, her eyes revealing a kind of stubbornness. Kokonoe Taka stopped fidgeting with his shoelaces and said slowly, “In the future,” he paused, “no one will play ball with me anymore.”

It was rare for him to speak so childishly, with a bewildered frustration. The information revealed in his words was enormous, and the negative attitude was undisguisedly displayed in front of Kokonoe Yū. Although it was a general statement, Kokonoe Yū quickly realized that the sentence pointed to a specific person.

So many analyses swirled in her mind, and only the two young men of the same grade as her grandson who had visited many times matched the description. One of them had been injured and hospitalized not long ago – she guessed right.

And once he spoke the first sentence, the rest poured out of his throat.

“If the companions who were with me in the beginning end up abandoning me, then what’s the point of me continuing to persevere in this matter?” he said softly, his voice getting lower and lower. “When I was playing basketball with him, I really thought I would keep playing like that forever.”

“Taka.” Kokonoe Yū took her grandson’s somewhat cool hand. He had grown up, and her hands couldn’t even completely cover his palm. But in Kokonoe Yū’s eyes, he would always be that stubborn boy, a considerate child who tugged at her heartstrings. “You need to know that no one will be with anyone forever,” she said earnestly, smiling slightly, “family, friends, lovers, even if they are inseparable. Even if they are always together, there will always be a day when they have to separate. Me and you, or me and your grandfather.”

Kokonoe Taka understood this principle better than anyone else. He pursed his lips, listening in silence as the gentle female voice continued, “‘Doing something for someone’ – although that is sometimes the case, if you always think like that, you won’t be able to persevere to the end.”

“But I was the one who abandoned Yakami first,” Kokonoe Taka said stubbornly, “It’s my fault.”

“There’s no reason why only one person is at fault when there’s a problem,” she interrupted him forcefully. “You’re just too young – there are many things you don’t understand and don’t comprehend. And you don’t have to force yourself to understand and comprehend, don’t build a prison for yourself. …That child must be thinking the same thing. He might be just as upset as you are, regretting saying those nasty things to you.”

She looked at him deeply, “Taka, you actually know that yourself, don’t you?”

Kokonoe Taka pushed open the door and ran forward along his usual route. His figure quickly disappeared from Kokonoe Yū’s sight. She closed the door, and Kokonoe Zhíyě poked his head out from the living room at some point. “How did the chat go?” he asked with concern.

Kokonoe Yū remembered her grandson’s eyes, breathed a sigh of relief, and then answered her husband, “Although that child didn’t say anything in the end…” She crouched down, carefully arranged the shoes in front of the shoe cabinet, and looked gently at Kokonoe Taka’s clean sneakers, “But he’ll definitely be fine.”

The monotonous morning running route, the crisscrossing cables cutting through the sky repeated themselves. He looked up at the sky, then lowered his head and charged forward headlong.

He knew.

He had been running forward on his own from the very beginning, just like this. – Just like the morning practice of the club activities, one person rushed out of the team and followed his own pace. At that time, he never cared whether anyone followed him.

The scenery beside him became increasingly unfamiliar. Kokonoe Taka was running, covered in sweat, and his throat was stinging with every breath.

The pain made him sober, and the sober person kept thinking about the problem.

What am I running for now?

His pace gradually slowed down.

Turning back, there was no one behind him.

…

Is that really so?

“—You’re running so fast!”

Kokonoe Taka’s brain, overwhelmed by the repeated question, made him slower than usual to realize what had happened – he was being spoken to, by someone he didn’t know.

The person who spoke to him seemed not to notice his face full of question marks, put his hands on his hips, was also covered in sweat, and was panting in a disheveled manner, but he couldn’t stop the eyes that were brighter than the sun hanging on the horizon.

He had a towering head of bleached white hair, which was obviously styled, and the hair on his temples was soaked with sweat, hanging half-falling on his ears. Even if he looked a little disheveled, it couldn’t stop the high spirits that permeated his every burning breath.

…It must be because of his eyes, he had eyes that looked a lot like an owl’s.

The owl was wearing the sports club’s standard T-shirt and shorts.

A student from the neighborhood?

While Kokonoe Taka was speculating aimlessly, the owl was already excitedly continuing, as if he hadn’t seen his coldness, “Why did you suddenly stop?” His attitude was righteous, and even a little genuinely puzzled.

Kokonoe Taka: “…More than that.” He asked, “When did you start following me?”

The owl grabbed his collar casually and wiped the sweat off his face. “I don’t know.” Even more righteously, “When I saw someone running so fast, I wanted to try to see if I could overtake him, so I unconsciously followed him.”

Kokonoe Taka stared at him in disbelief, trying to see a trace of lying in his expression. The white-haired owl looked back at him frankly, and the two stared at each other dryly.

“So you’re following someone you don’t know?” Kokonoe Taka broke the strange silence.

The owl thought for a moment, and suddenly let out an “ah” sound as if he had remembered something: “I called you!” He pointed a finger, “But you ignored me all the time!”

“…What did you call me?” Kokonoe Taka watched the other person frowning and recalling, and a bad feeling arose.

“‘Runner’!” Sure enough, a name that made his eyes darken appeared, “Because you were running so fast.”

Kokonoe Taka: “…”

I was an idiot to ask that question.

He turned his head and looked around a few times: an unfamiliar road, no one passing by except the two of them, and no signs to indicate where he was now – he had run too hard and didn’t pay attention to where he had run.

The owl tilted his head: “Aren’t you going to run anymore?”

Kokonoe Taka’s eyes moved back silently. Wasn’t there a person to ask for directions in front of him, “Do you know where this is?”

“The morning exercise running route.” “…Do you know the name of the place?”

“It seems to be…” The owl spat out a few completely unfamiliar words, names he had never heard of. “Are you lost?” he finally reacted.

“…No.”

Kokonoe Taka would never admit that he was lost, only idiots got lost.

The owl didn’t even notice that he was being stubborn, and blinked his eyes: “Then should we continue?” He was excited.

Kokonoe Taka stared at the other person’s bright orange-yellow eyes, as if they were two falling suns, and inexplicably agreed, “…Okay.”

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” The owl cheered and made a strange cry, rushing forward.

The magical owl was named Bokuto Kōtarō and was a volleyball club player from the Ugly Third Junior High School who was doing morning exercises. Before long, Kokonoe Taka had caught him off guard and gotten all his personal information, from the fact that he had two older sisters at home to the fact that he had gotten the worst score in the class on the last quiz. His overly defenseless attitude even made Kokonoe Taka couldn’t help but start worrying.

The single-celled organism was completely unaware and continued to say that his favorite food was grilled meat – Kokonoe Taka quickly changed the subject: “Speaking of which,” he was indeed curious, “Why are you alone?”

“Ah…I don’t know.” Bokuto Kōtarō said frankly, “When I came to my senses, I realized that I was the only one here.”

The clear, bright, and clean gaze, like a mirror, reflected the wide-eyed self.

It was almost like a fateful encounter.

Whether it was the timing of Bokuto Kōtarō’s appearance, or this sentence – from beginning to end, it was full of a sense of destiny. He was like an incarnation of his confusion, and the answer in his heart appeared before Kokonoe Taka’s eyes at just the right time.

Kokonoe Taka’s Adam’s apple moved, and his voice carried a sourness that only he noticed: “…Then,” he said softly, “why do you still persevere?”

The question was nonsensical, but Bokuto Kōtarō seemed to understand what he was referring to: “Because I decided,” he said firmly, as if the idiot who was just complaining about his sister teasing him too much and why his grades were always failing was someone else.

“I want to be the best in the country!”

A firm voice, a determination not to give up until he reached his goal.

And a frank greed.

“Why?” Kokonoe Taka looked at him deeply in the breeze.

Bokuto Kōtarō answered him.

“Because playing volleyball is the most fun!”

– And, pure love.

So move forward.

In the instant he was distracted, Bokuto Kōtarō seized the opportunity to shake him off, held his breath, and rushed forward. “I’m running faster!” He stopped in front of the gates of Ugly Third Junior High School with high spirits and announced his victory loudly. “I won!”

The person being watched by him raised his head, and Bokuto Kōtarō could only see the frown that had been on his face since they had met slowly smoothing out. He walked lightly and ran towards him.

“You won.”

– What am I running for now?

– I always knew.

– …I just love these three years too much.

…

…

“Kise, sorry, can you accompany me for a bit?”

“Eh?” The blond-haired boy who was suddenly called out by his senior was stunned. “I can, but…” He greeted the others and followed the black-haired senior to the basketball court next door, completely confused.

“When did Kokonoe-senpai get so close to Kise?” Aomine Daiki patted the basketball in frustration. He had originally wanted to play a few 1v1 games with Kokonoe Taka. Next to him, Haizaki Shōgo was equally annoyed. “Who knows,” he said gruffly.

Akashi’s gaze swept over the two people who didn’t know what they were upset about and looked at them from afar.

Kokonoe Taka and Kise Ryōta were unaware of these small ripples. Kise couldn’t help but ask, “Senpai, do you need me to do something?” He was very perceptive, and the question went straight to the heart of the matter. Kokonoe Taka picked up a basketball from the ground and threw it into Kise’s arms.

“I remember you’re good at ‘imitating’ moves you’ve seen?”

“That’s right…”

Kise Ryōta blinked.

“Can you play a few games with me? …Using your imitation.”

…

…

Time never stops.

The day of the final national tournament of the third year.

“Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium… Ah, is it this way?”

“That’s why I said, Koiwa, why did you come so early… The match doesn’t start until 4:00 p.m., right?”

Iwaizumi, who had dragged Oikawa Tōru out of bed early in the morning, continued to study the map without looking up. “If I were to rely on you, I might as well expect the sun to rise from the west.”

“…That’s so mean, Koiwa.” Oikawa Tōru followed behind him, muttering, “I’m not that bad, am I?”

“Oh, then who was the one who didn’t go home late at night, insisted on practicing, and vented his anger on his juniors?”

Oikawa Tōru was speechless. “…It’s all because Little Tobio is so annoying.” He remembered what happened that night and touched his nose with lingering fear. The spot where Iwaizumi’s iron fist had punished him still ached faintly.

But he didn’t continue to be stubborn and instead looked around at the unfamiliar scenery of Tokyo.

– This is the third year.

The third year of the promise to meet at the Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium.

Teiko Middle School’s third consecutive championship has become a popular topic in sports-related reports. The most eye-catching of these is Kokonoe Taka, the third-year ace in the team. The magazine analyzed him in great detail, from his personal style to his daily life at school, occupying most of the page. It even dug up Kokonoe Taka’s past participation in many tennis matches a few years ago.

This was clearly an eye-catching topic. If you opened your phone, you could see all kinds of speculations, and there were many discussions about it at school. If the person involved wasn’t his childhood friend, Oikawa Tōru would also be curious as to why someone would switch from tennis to basketball and play it so well.

This was something that only those who had been involved in each other’s lives since childhood could understand – Oikawa Tōru knew from the very beginning that Kokonoe Taka was different from others.

– He was someone who, if he “could do it”, would “do it to the best of his ability”.

But at first, Kokonoe Taka was only mechanically following this creed. Oikawa Tōru lazily followed behind Iwaizumi, somewhat absentmindedly thinking: Taka, have you found what you want now?

He suddenly said to Iwaizumi in front of him, “I think… we can beat Shiratorizawa this year.”

He no longer mentioned defeating Ushijima Wakatoshi, but said “we”. Iwaizumi took steady steps forward without looking back.

“Yeah.”

…

…

After Akashi Seijūrō took over as captain, Nijimura Shūzō’s jersey was switched back to the original number 11.

Number 11, number 12, number 13 – they sat side by side on the bench, with Kokonoe Taka’s side deliberately left with a space for one person to sit.

“Little Nine.” Nijimura Shūzō adjusted the elbow pad on his arm and suddenly said, “This may be the last time we play together.” Kokonoe Taka glanced at him questioningly.

“I’m going to America after graduating from the third grade.” Nijimura Shūzō didn’t dare to look at his friend’s expression. “My father’s illness can be treated well in America. So after graduation, I’ll be leaving Japan with him.”

“…”

“I see.”

Nijimura Shūzō rubbed his nose in annoyance: “‘I see’,” he imitated Kokonoe Taka’s tone, “can’t you be a little more emotional?”

“Why are you getting angry…” Kokonoe Taka helplessly brushed the hair in front of his forehead upwards, revealing a peaceful pair of gray eyes. Nijimura Shūzō was indeed angry – but he was angry at himself.

Seeing his usually carefree friend lower his head in dejection, Kokonoe Taka slapped him hard on the back without any mercy, “Pa!” The sound was so loud that the other teammates next to him immediately looked over in surprise. Nijimura Shūzō grimaced, almost leaping off the bench in pain and embarrassment.

“What are you doing?!”

“I’m telling you not to make that embarrassing face.” Kokonoe Taka withdrew his hand and raised his eyebrows, “It’s not like we’ll never see each other again in this life, don’t act like someone owes you money and hasn’t paid you back.”

“But,” he raised his head, paused for a moment, and looked at the bright floodlights on the dome of the gymnasium, “it seems like we won’t be able to play together as a trio anymore.”

Nijimura Shūzō’s voice was muffled as he buried his face in his hands: “…Yeah.”

Kokonoe Taka acted as if he didn’t hear the sniffling buried in his voice: “Then,” he stood up, faced him, and extended his fist to Nijimura Shūzō, “let’s play the most perfect game one last time.”

The other person sitting on the bench shook his head hard and raised his hand. The fist and fist bumped lightly and then separated. Nijimura Shūzō looked at Kokonoe Taka’s familiar face. His eyes were lowered, and his eyelashes blocked all emotions – What are you thinking now? Nijimura Shūzō stared at him and then saw those eyes raise and gently curve, with falling stars hidden inside.

A certain impulse suddenly surged in his chest like a sea tide, but it was buried by the sadness that covered the surface of the sea like moonlight. The stinging impulse extended from his chest and abdomen to his heart all the way to his throat. They only needed an opportunity to be spoken out, but they could only stop there.

Kokonoe Taka turned his head back and waited calmly for the whistle that represented the start of the game. His gaze, his expression, his posture, all made Nijimura Shūzō perceive an unshakable determination. So he could only fall silent along with him.

A long whistle.

The game begins.

Power forward Nijimura Shūzō, small forward Kokonoe Taka, center Murasakibara Atsushi, shooting guard Midorima Shintarō, and point guard Akashi Seijūrō.

Kise Ryōta watched the two teams bow to each other and whispered to Kuroko Tetsuya next to him, “Isn’t Aomine playing?” He deliberately ignored Haizaki Shōgo, who was also sitting on the bench. He and the other party didn’t get along very well, and their relationship was very bad.

Kuroko Tetsuya thought for a moment, “It seems that Kokonoe-senpai asked Coach Shirokane to determine this lineup in the end.”

“That’s right.” Kise Ryōta said, “Nijimura-senpai and Kokonoe-senpai are both in their third year and will be retiring from the club soon, right? Is this their last game?”

Aomine, who was sitting next to him with a somewhat listless expression, chimed in, “Anyway, we can win, right – By the way,” he remembered something, “Kise, what were you and Kokonoe-senpai studying together all this time?”

Haizaki Shōgo, who was the furthest away from Kise Ryōta, couldn’t help but look over when he heard this. Kise Ryōta scratched the back of his head, “That…”

He was also a little puzzled: “Kokonoe-senpai asked me to imitate Yakami-senpai’s playing style and moves and then play a few 1v1 games with him…”

“Huh?” They soon knew the answer to this question.

…

…

Before the National Tournament.

“Kokonoe-senpai, is this the final choice you’ve made?”

Akashi Seijūrō sat in the student council office, looking at the uninvited guest who rarely visited. Since that brief conversation on the roof that day, this was the first time the two of them had been alone together.

Kokonoe Taka did not answer him directly.

“That game against Jōhoku.” He said in a low voice, starting another topic, “You did it on purpose.”

The assertive tone added another layer of certainty to the sentence.

Akashi Seijūrō lowered his eyes, “If Kokonoe-senpai was restricted at that time, his condition would probably have plummeted straight to the bottom.” He said calmly, even somewhat cruelly and inhumanly, “What’s more, Jōhoku is not the easy opponent it used to be. In this situation, letting it go is the best option.”

“Senpai didn’t want to lose, did he?”

Winning or losing, victory or defeat.

When Kokonoe Taka heard this sentence, he was stunned by the word in it. These had once filled his life, and his life only had these. But soon, his eyes refocused and finally settled on the red-haired junior sitting behind the table.

“Is victory so important in Akashi’s eyes,” he said.

“Isn’t senpai also constantly chasing after victory?” As soon as the words came out, Akashi Seijūrō realized that his tone was a little sharp. He was silent for a moment and slowed down his voice, “Moreover, suppressing yourself won’t solve any problems.” His words were sharp, “Even if you control your outburst, inequality will always exist.”

And one day it will repeat itself.

He paused, “Besides, you were having a lot of fun back then, weren’t you?”

“Ah, I was having a lot of fun.”

Kokonoe Taka unexpectedly admitted to his statement, “So I want to thank you, Akashi. That was the first time I clearly felt my love for basketball.”

“…”

“But I also understood,” he continued, “victory is not my everything.”

“…Is this your answer?”

“Yeah.”

He laughed.

“It’s time to end it.”

Akashi Seijūrō watched his senpai open the door to the office and closed his eyes wearily. But that door paused, and the person who had turned his back left him with his last words before leaving.

“I actually really like playing ball with you, Akashi.”

As if crossing over time, the current Kokonoe Taka gave an answer to the past Akashi Seijūrō. Akashi Seijūrō was stunned and hastily raised his eyes. The door had already been closed gently, and he was the only one left in the room again, sitting silently behind the table, facing the silence of the room.

The conversation between him and himself just now seemed to still echo in his ears.

– “If we can win, I have no objections.”

…

…

Ah. He breathed a sigh of relief, the last game.

The opening possession was won by Murasakibara, but he didn’t pass the ball to Akashi. Another person took over the commanding tower position that should have belonged to Akashi.

The style of a team is often inextricably linked to the tactics adopted by the commanding tower. If the tactics used by Akashi were to cooperate with his teammates to the greatest extent and stimulate their individual abilities – then the current commanding tower was like a solid knot, firmly tying everyone together.

National-level competitions have always attracted a lot of attention, and many sharp-eyed fans have noticed that the highly anticipated small forward now looks like a point guard. The attacks and defenses arranged are as tight as silk threads. But he controls the ball alone, and when facing one-on-one defense, he turns back into the invincible scorer he used to be.

What is Yakami Saku’s style of play?

It is calm observation, cunning guidance, and accurate prediction.

It is also a stubborn refusal to admit defeat and a desperate effort.

Kokonoe Taka was actually distracted on the tense court and thought of the scene when he first met Yakami Saku. He couldn’t help but curl the corners of his mouth, and the aura on his body was peaceful and nostalgic, which seemed out of place. This obvious flaw prompted the player opposite him to take action and decisively steal the ball. But the ball, which should have been in Kokonoe Taka’s palm, disappeared –

This was a feint.

Speaking of feints, that was Yakami Saku’s signature move. He would always mischievously smile and also innocently pass the buck to Nijimura or Kokonoe. On the court, he could also magically deceive his opponent and then admire his opponent’s frustration.

This feint was unlikely to appear on Kokonoe Taka. Although he also used this move, he always used it when dribbling past opponents –

But not, using a feint to pass the ball to Nijimura Shūzō like a ghost.

Nijimura Shūzō subconsciously ran towards the opponent’s inner court after receiving the ball. The well-timed pass deceived most of the players, and the only center who followed him could only watch helplessly as Nijimura Shūzō easily threw the ball into the basket. But Nijimura Shūzō seemed to be even more shocked than them and stretched his neck to look back before he had even landed.

What was he looking at?

He was looking at Kokonoe Taka, who had said he wanted to play the most perfect game.

Kokonoe Taka was wearing the number 12 jersey, that’s right. He had always refused to change to other numbers, so the coach had complied with his wishes, making number 12 a number that always belonged to him alone. But now, the number 12 that his eyes captured seemed to twist and turn into another number that he was equally familiar with – number 13, the jersey number of the third person who couldn’t play.

Was that Little Nine… or Yakami?

His eyes were noticed by the other party. Kokonoe Taka raised his fist in the air and bumped it forward lightly.

– It’s Little Nine.

Nijimura Shūzō’s eyes were hot. He closed his eyes and then opened them again, and there was no more wavering in them.

– But Yakami also seemed to be fighting alongside them.

There was no need to say anything more. On this court, he understood the belief that tied the team together ball by ball better than anyone else. The score gradually increased, and the gymnasium was filled with cheers for the scorers.

Even if they noticed that the style of the number 12 player was different from usual. But few people could see the determination that flowed from every move he used that belonged to another person. Only teammates and friends who knew him well enough would realize the implicit meaning contained in it, and then there would only be a silent silence.

But perhaps, only he and the other person would know.

What he was saying silently.

– Yakami.

– I’m very glad to have met you.

– Even now, I’m glad that I came out and stood in front of you.

– Yakami.

– …Thank you.

In the second half of the game, it was almost a showy crush, Kokonoe Taka took on the responsibilities of point guard and small forward alone with his own strength. But he didn’t even look at the scoreboard that was increasing the numbers.

Countless people couldn’t help but shout his name, cheer for him, and cheer for him. The overwhelming cheers drowned out the whole world, but he turned a deaf ear to it. It was like announcing something, like telling something. One feint after another, one pass after another, one dribble after another.

Some people only saw his strength, and some people saw the softness beneath that strength.

Then.

The last ball.

Kokonoe Taka could almost “see” the trajectory of this ball with his eyes closed. It was very, very high, but it was the place where he played the most smoothly. He had received such a ball full of trust countless times, and this was also a ball that represented the past three years.

He started running.

Boom boom.

He clearly heard his heart beat violently once, and then again.

The steps that rose and fell coincided perfectly with the rhythm of his heartbeat. He was like a beast, staring intently at the prey in mid-air.

Boom!

A heavy thudding sound.

He jumped into the air.

The camera propped up on the sidelines faithfully recorded the figure soaring into the air.

It was like a soaring eagle.

Perhaps later generations would see his style at this time through the video and comment on his figure. But that wouldn’t be now, and it could no longer shake Kokonoe Taka’s determination.

He pressed down on the ball in the air. His fingers were pale and his muscles were slightly bulging, which was a beautiful thing full of strength.

The basketball fell sharply in his palm –

“Bang! —”

The whole place was silent.

It was as if they had witnessed the fall of a blazing sun.

– Yakami.

Kokonoe Taka, who had fallen down, looked at his palm so gently and sadly. This hand had just passed the basketball to above the basket and then dunked the basketball into the net. He passed it to himself and dunked it himself. It was such an amazing, such an over-the-top ball. But the person who made this move seemed as calm as if he was an outsider.

He put down his hand and looked at the basketball rolling on the ground.

– Goodbye.

The whistle blew.

…

…

This is the end of all stories.

Kokonoe Taka got the answer.

What did Yakami Saku mean to him?

It means his starting point, the starting point of everything.

He loved these three years – if you want to use more accurate words, he loved these three years.

He loved it seriously.

And after that, after sending the basketball into the basket for the last time, the water glass containing his love for basketball has been filled and there will be no more drops.

He was sure that if he continued to play basketball in the future, he would not be able to feel the same passion and joy as he did at this moment. He would not be able to experience the touch of this moment in the future.

– Only in these three years did he taste this taste.

That’s enough. He thought.

On the night he made this decision, Kokonoe Taka had a brief phone call with his mother, who was far away in England. He told her everything that had happened, and he asked her, “Can I do this?”

“Can I… be a little selfish?”

Tsurumi Sumiko answered gently. She reached out and touched the screen as if she wanted to touch his cheek through the hard screen, “Yes. Taka, you can do whatever you want to do -”

“Fly.” She said softly and firmly. Her eyes were like the calm and gentle foreign lake, “Just like your name.”

So he decided. He found that this decision was not difficult.

This was a farewell.

This championship was the end of everything.

…

…

“…Yakami?”

Yakami’s mother opened the door and walked into her son’s ward, calling his name carefully and worriedly, “Is there something wrong?”

Yakami Saku on the hospital bed raised his arm, and the upper half of his face was tightly covered, but he couldn’t stop the liquid from falling through the cracks.

“I’m fine.” He said, his voice with a clear nasal tone. “…Nothing is wrong.”

His cell phone was upside down in front of him, and there were still faint excited roars. Yakami’s mother walked over, picked up the cell phone, and the cell phone was playing a basketball game, which seemed to have reached the awards part.

She closed the live broadcast page.

…

…

“I’m also very glad to have met you.”

“Little Nine.”