Recruit 7 Members to the Team (✔️)
Additional Objectives:
– Recruit someone with at least a B attribute average (✔️)
– Recruit a manager (✔️)
[ Host may now choose a reward path: Quantity or Quality. ]
– Quantity: 3 Common Items + 3 Common Skills
– Quality: 1 Rare Item + 1 Rare Skill
Common? Rare? Legendary? How am I supposed to know what's actually good if I've never seen any of them before?
"Echo," I said cautiously, "Can I pick three items and one rare skill instead?"
[ Yes. Host may proceed. ]
Alright. For items, I didn't mind settling for common ones. I needed basic tools anyway. But when it came to skills? I needed the best.
– Training Booster x2: Speeds up training progress
– Injury Reducer x1: Reduces the chance or severity of injuries
– Flow: Enter a "flow state" where physical attributes increase by 50% to 200% depending on game pressure. Duration and intensity scale with stress.
A risky skill. The stronger the pressure, the greater the boost. But the downside? I could tell—it would drain stamina like crazy. Still, if I managed it well, it could turn me into a monster.
[ First Quest Bonus: Choose one attribute to upgrade by 1 tier. ]
Dirga chosing Physical Attribute he feels that where he is lacking
– Physical Attribute: Upgraded to C
A warmth spread through my body, like I was standing under a hot shower. My muscles buzzed with energy, and for a moment, I felt like I could backflip 100 times.
The difference between C– and C is insane.
If just this step feels like a new world... then how strong is Rikuya's Physical attribute?
The next day arrived.
We gathered at the gym, ready to meet our coach.
"Alright, listen up!" Kaito said, clapping his hands. "Today we welcome not just our coach, but also our faculty advisor!"
The gym door slid open.
"Excuse me," a familiar voice said.
It was Takeshi Renji—my uncle.
"Hello everyone," he said with a calm smile. "I'll be your team advisor. My name's Takeshi Renji, but you can call me Takeshi-sensei. Also, yes—Dirga is my nephew."
Even before the others could react, he addressed the elephant in the room. Respect.
We had a brief team meeting after that—introducing ourselves, discussing our schedule, and the current state of things.
"So," Takeshi-sensei said, flipping through his notes. "You have a match next week... but no uniforms yet?"
"Uhh... I already finished the design, Takeshi-sensei," Sayaka said quietly, raising her hand like a shy student.
Takeshi nodded. "Good. Come with me after this—I know someone who can get them made in time."
With that, Sayaka and my uncle left the gym to handle the uniforms.
Just as they exited, the gym doors slid open again.
And this guy? He was massive. Even bigger than Rikuya. Built like a truck.
"Hello," the man said casually.
Kaito lit up. "Ah! Coach! Right on time!"
He turned to us. "Everyone, meet our official team coach!"
The man stepped forward. He had the aura of a heavyweight champion... but also...
...he was wearing an apron.
And not just any apron—one with a bright red logo that said: "RAMEN!!"
He even had a noodle strainer in one hand.
Is this really our coach... or a guy who took a wrong turn on his lunch break?
"Hahaha, sorry about the outfit," the man laughed. "Came straight from my shop. I'm Tsugawa Masaki."
Even Rikuya's stoic expression cracked.
"You're... the Tsugawa Masaki?"
The name echoed in my mind like a buzzer beater.
Tsugawa Masaki—a living legend. The first Japanese player to ever play overseas professionally. A pioneer. A national icon. A beast on the court... until an injury cut his career short.
After that, rumors said he retired quietly and opened a ramen shop somewhere in Osaka.
And now... he's here.
What the hell is going on?
"Ahhh, the good old days," Tsugawa Masaki chuckled, scratching the back of his head. His apron flapped slightly as he laughed. "And you guys have a match next week, right? Well, after that, come by my ramen shop. First bowl's on the house!"
He said it so casually—but to us, it was like he just promised the keys to heaven.
Our eyes sparkled like a bunch of hungry puppies.
A legendary player AND he feeds us? What a guy.
But the warm, fuzzy moment didn't last long.
"Alright!" he clapped his hands once. "But before we talk bowls of ramen, I need to see what I'm working with. How bad are you all really? Let's start with the fundamentals. On the baseline—now!"
Drills. Conditioning. Footwork. Passing. More drills.
At first, it felt light. A nice warm-up, maybe even fun.
It was like starting on solid ground, then digging our way into the first level of hell. And from there, we just kept going deeper.
My lungs burned. Sweat poured like rain. I started wondering if my legs were even mine anymore.
Even the heavy hitters—Rikuya, Taiga, Aizawa —were starting to break. Bent over. Gasping.
So even monsters can die, huh?
But Coach didn't stop.
"More, more! Is this really your level? Is this all you've got?"
We couldn't even respond. Just groans and gasps filled the gym.
Through my blurred vision, I noticed something interesting. Kaito wasn't doing the same drills. He had a different program—less intense, more controlled.
He must've been briefed about Kaito's heart condition. That or he noticed something just from observing. Either way—this guy wasn't just some ex-player turned noodle chef.
He knew what he was doing.
He didn't yell like other coaches.
But somehow... that made it worse. The kind of psychological torture that came with kindness. Like a demon offering candy before dragging you into the abyss.
"Faster! Tighter passes! No sloppy footwork! Don't waste my time, boys!"
By the end of the session, we were half-dead.
Collapsed across the floor like fallen soldiers.
"Alright," he finally said, clapping once more. "That's enough for today. You'll get better. Or die. Maybe both. Who knows?"
He's not just a coach.
He's a ramen-powered general from hell.