Paris, Champs-Élysées.
Haizaki Shogo stepped out of the hotel alone and wandered into a perfume boutique along the bustling street. Yes—alone. A man. In a perfume shop. In Paris.
"Sir, how may I help you today?" the shop assistant asked politely.
"Perfume. Something suitable as a gift for girls."
"May I ask what your relationship is with the recipients? Your mother, girlfriend… or friends?"
"Uh… my mother, girlfriend, friends?"
"Please wait a moment. I will recommend several suitable fragrances."
Haizaki took a seat by the counter, waiting for the French woman, who was dressed in a professional outfit yet radiated an almost intoxicating charm. About five minutes later, she returned carrying a neatly wrapped box.
"For your mother, I recommend Chanel No. 5. It is a timeless classic suitable for all women."
"Oh?" Haizaki tilted his head slightly, gesturing for her to continue.
"For your girlfriend, Chanel No. 19 is ideal. It is also a classic and complements No. 5 beautifully."
"And for your friends, I recommend Poison and Rive Gauche. Poison is seductive and mysterious, while Rive Gauche is especially popular in Eastern countries—particularly Japan."
Haizaki considered it for a moment, sampling each of the fragrances she offered. They were indeed good.
In the end, he bought all four.
It's just a trip to Paris… I should bring something back. Otherwise it feels meaningless.
And maybe… this is just my habit from my old world—no matter where I go, I bring something back as a souvenir.
After paying, he returned to the hotel. His teammates were all out exploring different districts of Paris, including Nash.
Suddenly alone, Haizaki took out his phone and sent a few messages to his mother back in Japan and Rena in Australia, informing them of tomorrow's schedule.
Tomorrow, he would fly to New York once again.
And in New York…
An old friend was waiting.
=======
Two days later, John F. Kennedy International Airport, New York.
The plane landed.
Haizaki Shogo stepped out carrying a large travel bag. After greeting Nash and the others, he separated from the team and walked alone out of the airport.
"Shogo, call me if anything comes up. You've got my number."
"OK."
========
Outside the terminal, he saw him.
An old friend.
"Long time no see, senpai. You look much more composed now."
"That's obvious. Come on, let's go home first. You need to meet my father."
"Has his condition improved?"
"Yeah. Much better. He'll recover soon."
"Congratulations… you've finally been freed from a burden."
"That's not a burden," the man replied firmly. "It's responsibility."
"Heh. Right—responsibility."
Haizaki smiled faintly as he looked at the now taller and more mature Nijimura Shuzo. Before coming to America, he had considered contacting him, but in the end, he chose to wait until the tournament was over.
Didn't want to disturb him during this time.
"So? Your tournament is over?"
"Yeah."
"You won?"
"Of course."
"Ha… impressive. That was Serbian Eagles, right?"
"You've heard of them?"
"How could I not? A powerhouse known as the European Eagles. Serbia produces top-tier players."
"True. Their players are all monsters."
They chatted casually as they got into a car.
"By the way… you can drive?" Haizaki asked.
"Of course. In the U.S., you can get a license at 16. At 17, you can drive alone. But a full license takes five years."
The car drove through the quiet streets. After a few hours, they arrived at a small suburban town outside New York City. It was quiet, peaceful, and mostly inhabited by Asian and Black residents.
"Nice place. Very quiet."
"Yeah. Perfect for my father's recovery. And houses are cheap here."
=======
The next morning, Haizaki woke up and stared at the unfamiliar room.
Then he remembered.
He was at Nijimura's home.
After a hearty Japanese-style breakfast prepared by Nijimura's mother, they were immediately dragged outside by his younger siblings, who were already holding a basketball.
"Let's go play! Let's go!"
"Let me see if you've gotten rusty," Nijimura said with a grin.
"You sure you didn't get stronger after going to America?" Haizaki replied lazily.
"Heh. You'll find out soon enough."
=======
Ten minutes later, they arrived at an outdoor court. Several groups of streetball players, mostly Black teens, were already occupying it.
"Yo, Nijimura! Over here!"
One of them called out.
"That's my friend. We'll join them," Nijimura said.
They formed a 3-on-3 team.
Haizaki quietly observed the court.
Street basketball in America… a completely different level.
The players here, despite being only around seventeen or eighteen years old, possessed bodies, strength, and explosiveness that completely dwarfed Japanese high school players.
Raw talent everywhere.
Even Nijimura noticed it and leaned closer.
"These guys… are different, right?" he whispered.
"Yeah," Haizaki replied. "Completely different league."
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