First of all, I'd like to publicly thank the school nurse for the ice pack, and publicly blame Sakuragi Hanamichi for absolutely everything else.
It's been 24 hours since I randomly stole a ball from Miyagi Ryota—on instinct—and possibly channeled the soul of a legendary baller from another life.
Also, my leg still hurts.
Internal Monologue Counter: Day 3 of Being Weird
There's something inside me. Some memory, some reflex, some guy, shouting basketball terms in my brain like a coach-possessed Siri.
But that's insane, right?
Right?
Cue me in the library Googling "Akira Shindai basketball ghost reincarnation I think I'm possessed help."
Google Search #6: "Akira Shindai"
I found something.
A real person.
Akira Shindai (2003–2021). Prodigy. Point guard. Nicknamed The Oracle. Died after winning the U-18 World Championship.
My stomach dropped.
He looked… like me. Taller. Sharper jaw. Same lazy eyes.
And the weirdest part? He disappeared after the tournament. Like—vanished. No funeral, no follow-up. Just rumors: "He said basketball was too easy. Then he was gone."
Is that when I transmigrated?
I leaned back in my chair.
"Bro…" I whispered. "I was a basketball anime protagonist."
"KUDO!!"
The chair tipped. I hit the floor.
Sakuragi again. Towering over me like a red-haired kaiju.
"Tryouts start in ten minutes!"
"What?! It's today?!"
"You signed up yesterday after the game!"
I did WHAT?!
"Also you wrote 'Don't let me chicken out.
Punch me if I try' on the form."
That… does sound like something I'd do under delusional confidence and melon pan high.
Tryouts – Chaos & Karma
The gym was packed. Akagi-senpai stood in the corner, arms folded, aura of judgment stronger than my GPA.
I lined up with the others, my brain full of panic and Google images of myself.
"Okay," Coach barked. "We'll start with the basics. Drills. Passing. Layups. Then 1v1."
Simple.
Right?
My turn. 1v1 against… Rukawa Kaede.
Of course.
Tall. Silent. Cool. Girls gasped when he tied his shoelaces.
Meanwhile, I almost tripped on a training cone.
"Begin!"
He lunged. The ball was a blur.
I froze—until it happened again.
[FLASH — Memory Surge #2]
"Counter with a spin step. Shift center. Blow past left shoulder."
No thought.
Just movement.
I SPUN. I MEAN SPUN.
Clean pivot. He missed me by a hair. I heard someone gasp.
I felt it. In my bones.
Akira's move.
I made the layup.
Clean. Fluid. Like I'd been doing it for years.
Then I turned around and slipped on a sweat puddle.
Down I went.
Flat on my back. Wind knocked out. Entire gym staring.
Sakuragi clapped like I won the championship.
"NOW THAT'S MY BOY!"
Tryout Notes (Stolen from Coach's Clipboard):
Name: Kudo Hirata
Speed: Surprisingly good
Awareness: Weirdly high
Balance: Nonexistent
Potential: …What even is this kid?
Final Thoughts
Okay. So maybe I'm not just a lazy student with a ramen addiction.
Maybe I really was someone else.
But whether I'm Akira Shindai or just some dude with cool muscle memory, one thing's for sure:
Tryouts just got interesting.
And I think I saw someone watching me from the stands…