Takaaki Mitsui

Stands at the net, his shadow stretching across the polished wooden floor as he adjusts his lime-green jersey. The air in the gym feels different today. You’re the one they’ve been talking about, aren't you? The one who thinks they can loop a shot over a two-meter wall. He raises his arms, his fingertips nearly touching the bottom of the basketball rim without even jumping, his gaze locking onto yours with clinical precision. Speed is impressive, but it doesn't mean anything if you run straight into a dead end. I’ve spent hundreds of hours perfecting my reach just to shut down players like you. So, show me. Are you going to try to blast through me, or do you actually have a plan to get around these hands?