The Shadow Manager: The Girl Who Controls Shohoku Basketball Club - Sakuragi Hanamichi, Ryota's secret weapon

The day after receiving the practice match application, after school. I, Inoue Ayako, walked along the covered walkway leading to the gymnasium, clutching a slightly heavy binder. With every step I took, the old floorboards let out a dull creak. Since yesterday, Rinan High School had been swirling around in my head nonstop. *Manager: Shirakawa Kanade, Second Year* Every time I recalled that name, the center of my chest went cold, like a sharp pinch. Even though I'd never met her. Even though it was a name I was seeing for the first time. *(I have a bad feeling about this.)* I shook my head, banishing the thought. First, the practice right in front of me. Today's menu was basic drills followed by a mini-game. Since we had a first-year rookie whose fundamentals were a mess, the basics portion inevitably dragged on longer. Yes, that red-headed first-year rookie who was a genius or whatever. It was when I reached the back of the gymnasium. "Why the hell does a genius like me have to do boring dribbling drills like this?!" A loud voice I recognized all too well made me stop in my tracks involuntarily. Behind the gym. A narrow, shaded strip of space sandwiched between the school building wall and the gymnasium wall. Normally, it was a place used only for storage or by students looking to slack off and hide. In that dim spot, there were two silhouettes. Swaying his large 188-centimeter frame with obvious displeasure, shaking his bright red crew-cut head up and down — that was Sakuragi Hanamichi. Overflowing with his usual confidence, his gleaming eyes now burned with anger. And the other one. A 168-centimeter man who had to tilt his head up slightly to meet Hanamichi's eye level. His short, cropped black hair was meticulously styled with wax, and only the piercing in his left ear glinted dully in the shadows. Miyagi Ryota. "Shut up. A guy with no fundamentals rampaging on the court is just a nuisance to the team. You can't do anything except rebound, can you?" Ryota's voice was low, but it carried a clear, sharp edge. It wasn't his usual lighthearted tone. His face said he was dead serious about what he was telling Hanamichi. Hanamichi was at a loss for words. Rebounding was one of the few weapons he could actually use in a real game. Precisely because of that, it was also the core of his pride. Having that targeted head-on, he couldn't find a rebuttal. "Your raw physical ability is insane. But look, if you don't have the fundamentals down — dribbling, passing — it's not even a conversation. Best case scenario, you get the ball stolen in a game and the other team scores." Ryota deftly spun a basketball on his left hand. Then, he tossed it lightly at Hanamichi's chest. "Do it again. Slower this time. Basic stance: drop your hips, control the ball with your fingertips. Don't slap at it with your whole palm." "Gaaah, I know already! A genius can do it without being taught!" Driven by anger, Hanamichi started dribbling as if he were slamming the ball into the floor. *Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!* Incredible force. But that wasn't dribbling. It was just taking out his frustration on the ball and the floor. Sure enough, on the third *thwack!*, the ball hit Hanamichi squarely on the top of his left foot. "Gwah!" Hanamichi lost his balance and fell clumsily onto his backside right there. His long limbs tangled up, making him look like a fawn that couldn't stand. A huge guy, 188 centimeters tall, sprawled on the ground. The sight was so utterly ridiculous— "Ahahahaha! What the hell kind of fall was that?! You nailed your own foot perfectly!" Ryota burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. The stern senior face from moments ago was gone, replaced by the smile of a boy his own age, laughing without restraint. "Y-you bastard, don't laugh!" "But man... *pfft*... who falls that dramatically? Seriously." Ryota laughed so hard tears welled up in his eyes, and he reached out a hand, yanking Hanamichi up by the arm. Hanamichi was still sulking, but being pulled up by Ryota seemed to have drained his will to stay angry. From the shadows, I watched the scene intently. Quietly, so they wouldn't notice. Ryota was doing it properly. As a candidate for the next captain, to succeed Captain Akagi, he was taking the time to nurture a junior who had more raw talent than him. Beneath that frivolous appearance and playful vibe, he was seriously thinking about what only he could do. Somehow, that warmed the depths of my chest. A gentle, spreading sensation, like taking a sip of hot cocoa on a cold, rainy day. Hanamichi started dribbling again, this time a little more carefully. Still unsteady, but better than before. Ryota called out, "Yeah, yeah, like that." That's when it happened. Ryota suddenly looked up. As if he'd known I was there all along, he looked straight toward where I was hiding. "Ayako-san! Were you watching?! Look, I'm seriously training the rookie! This is pretty tough, you know, teaching!" He suddenly raised his voice and gave a deliberately theatrical salute. The guy who'd been so stern just moments ago was now bounding over like a puppy. At his lightning-fast switch, I found myself readjusting my grip on the binder. "Ayako-san! Give me someone better than this guy! His teaching sucks!" Hanamichi noticed me too and yelled loudly from behind Ryota. Like a chick begging its mother bird for food. I let out a small sigh and stepped out from the shadows. "No. Miyagi is teaching you, so shut up and listen." I lightly tapped Hanamichi's red head with the binder. *Bonk.* "Whaaat?!" "Your fundamentals are completely hopeless. Obviously, what Miyagi is saying is correct." When I said it decisively, Hanamichi grunted "Grrr..." but didn't say anything more. For some reason, my words were the only ones he'd obey without question. "See, Ayako-san says so too. Alright, one more!" Ryota happily slapped Hanamichi on the back with a *thwack*. When he turned around, his face bore a smile like the sun. A carefree, pure, straightforward smile. In that instant, my heart leaped in my chest. No. This wasn't the feeling of a senior watching over Hanamichi's growth. Nor was it the emotion of a manager overseeing the team. It was more selfish, more visceral — a desire to make him mine... *(—!)** Feeling my face flush with heat, I hurriedly hugged the binder closer, as if to hide behind it. "Make sure you teach him properly, all the way through. I'll be in the equipment room getting things ready." Leaving those words behind, I fled the scene. From behind me, I could hear Hanamichi's battle cry — "There's nothing a genius can't do!" — and Ryota's voice — "Shut up and just do it already!" I entered the gymnasium and inhaled the distinct smell of sweat, dust, and floor wax. The silent gym, still empty of people. I didn't dislike this air. In fact, it calmed me. But right now, my heartbeat was deafening. Every time the stopwatch hanging from my neck swayed, it felt like it was transmitting the pounding of my heart. I opened the door to the equipment room and stepped inside. A small room, three meters by four. Steel shelves lined one wall, holding thirty basketballs. Bibs, cones, an agility ladder. And off to the side, my data notebooks were neatly arranged. This was my castle. My command center, where no one could disturb me. I pulled a single notebook from the shelf. The cover was blank. *Player Condition Management Notebook*. Inside, detailed information on every club member was packed tightly. I flipped through the pages and opened to today's date. *Sakuragi Hanamichi — Needs intensive dribbling fundamentals. Without a weapon other than rebounding, he'll struggle in real games. Miyagi instructing him again today.* I sat at the desk and picked up my pen. Reading that last sentence, my fingers stopped again. Miyagi. The scene from earlier surfaced on the back of my eyelids. His serious face, speaking sternly to Hanamichi. His innocent face, laughing uproariously at Hanamichi's failure. His happy face when he spotted me. And that smile, like the sun. I felt the depths of my chest grow warm, spreading slowly. *(I, about Miyagi Ryota...)* Thinking that far, I gasped. The tip of the pen trembled over the notebook. Like. Probably, that's what it was. Not as a manager, but as a girl, I harbored special feelings for him. I wanted him to look at me, and only me, more. I'd become aware of it. I'd understood it, clearly, put it into words. In that instant, another image flashed back through my mind. —Middle school. In the corner of the classroom, a few girls whispering amongst themselves. Glancing over at me repeatedly. *"Hey, did you hear? That basketball club manager girl, she's going out with the ace senior."* *"Ugh, a manager making eyes at the players, isn't that the most annoying thing ever?"* *"And get this, she only got close to him because she wanted info to use in games. The senior said so."* *"Ahaha! What, that's so lame!"* The mockery from back then, etched deep into my ears. And then, his words. *"Ayako, sorry. That data you gathered was super helpful. Thanks."* A casual tone, as if thanking a useful tool. I was used, and then it was over. I was just a convenient information broker. The words "I like you," the times he was kind — it was all an act to win games. That day, for the first time, I learned what it was like outside the court. I became afraid to watch basketball. Just remembering the smell of the gym made me nauseous. A manager falling in love with a player — that's a fatal weakness. Absolutely not. Never again. —*Snap!* The sound that pulled me back to reality made me realize I had broken the pen. "...Ah." I must have been gripping it with all my strength. My fingers were white, and shards of the pen were digging into my palm. I slumped down into the chair. "I will absolutely never repeat the same mistake..." I told myself. Repeated it like a mantra. I'm not that girl from back then, the one who was just blindly infatuated. I'm the manager who moves the Shohoku Basketball Club from the shadows. I can't let emotions sweep me away and endanger the team. Miyagi Ryota is simply a teammate. I'm just going to train him into the next captain. That's all. That's all it needs to be. But every time my head thought that, Ryota's smile from earlier floated up, and the depths of my chest tightened painfully. An aching, agonizing, helpless sensation. *(Why, of all people, did it have to be him?)* I slammed the notebook shut and stood up. I have to sort out my emotions. I'll go to the rooftop. No one comes there. If I let the cold wind hit me, I can barely manage to stay calm right now. I left the equipment room and walked briskly down the covered walkway. Outside, it was already completely dark. Apparently, more time had passed than I realized. It was just as I was about to climb the emergency stairs. —*Thump, thump, thump.* From the direction of the gym, I heard a rhythmic sound. The sound of a ball hitting the floor. *(Who's still here at this hour?)* I stopped my feet, which were heading for the stairs, and circled around to the gym entrance. I quietly opened the door and peered inside. The dimly lit gymnasium. The mercury lamps on the ceiling were mostly off, and only half the court was barely illuminated by a hazy light. Within that circle of light. A large silhouette with a bright red head was moving alone. Hanamichi. "Dammit...! A genius like me... why...!" Cursing at himself, he was slamming the ball against the floor. In the basic stance Ryota had just taught him. Hips dropped, knees bent, trying to control the ball with only his left hand. Left-handed dribbling should have been his weakest movement. "I can't... do it..." *Thud.* The ball hit his foot again, and his large body nearly pitched forward. But he didn't fall. "There's nothing... a genius can't do!!" He gritted his teeth, im

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Episode 2

Name: The Shadow Manager: The Girl Who Controls Shohoku Basketball Club
Author: Novelia

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