They say life gives you second chances.
They don't mention it usually involves a glowing portal, a sarcastic angel in Crocs, and a giant basketball hitting you in the face before class.
But hey—I'm Kudo Hirata now. High school student. Alleged benchwarmer. And possibly the reincarnation of a Japanese basketball prodigy.
Or I've just been watching too much anime and hitting my head too often.
"KUDO!!"
There it is. That's my daily alarm. Not my phone. Not my mom.
Just Sakuragi Hanamichi, yelling across the gym like he's summoning a Pokémon.
"We need one more for 3-on-3! And you've got long legs! That means talent!"
I was holding a melon pan and wearing my house slippers. My soul left my body.
"…I'm literally in pastry mode right now."
"CARBS BUILD MUSCLE! GET IN HERE!"
That's Sakuragi. Red hair, louder than fate, shirt always mysteriously gone, brain powered entirely by main character energy.
We've been friends since he once thought my lunch was a rice ball and tried to dunk it.
Now here I was, five minutes later, trying not to die on court. Again.
I was guarding Miyagi Ryota—the human hurricane with a basketball—and I swear the ball vanished for a second.
He moved left, I flinched right. My knee whispered something unholy.
And then… something happened.
[FLASH — Memory Unlocking]
A glowing scoreboard. Crowds chanting "Shindai! Shindai!"
Me—no, not me—a taller, colder version of me, wearing black and gold, eyes like steel.
"Zone press in 4.3 seconds. Pivot. Dish. Three-point corner."
I wasn't thinking.
I just moved.
"WHOA!"
I blinked. Somehow… I stole the ball?
Me. Kudo "I skipped cardio for ramen" Hirata.
Even Sakuragi paused, mouth open mid-taunt.
"What was THAT?!" Miyagi shouted, staggering. "You've never done that move!"
"Uhhh…" I looked down at my hands like they weren't mine.
"…Anime training montage?" I offered.
Sakuragi exploded with joy. "I KNEW YOU HAD IT IN YOU!"
Bench Notes:
I don't know what's happening to me.
Every time I step on the court, it's like something else takes over—like someone else is waking up inside me.
Cooler. Smarter. Better.
Someone named Akira Shindai.
And somehow… I think he was me.
In a different life.
Now tryouts are next week. And I'm either about to become a legend… or break my other knee.
Probably both.