I never imagined that basketball would become such a brilliant color in my life, a fiery red like maple leaves, illuminating my youth. In the hazy memories of my childhood, Dad held me in his arms and pointed it out, saying it was something more wonderful than life itself. All I remember is the look of fascination in his eyes and the fleeting bitterness in Mom's. That was about all I remembered of Dad. After that, there was only Mom's increasingly cold gaze. At her arrangement, I went to Japan, where basketball brought me to him. His name was like an autumn maple: aloof and strong, yet incomparably gentle. His figure gradually came to overlap with that of the older neighbor boy from my childhood. Both were incredibly talented basketball players. The difference was that the older boy had already passed away. As the basketball struck the floor with a low DO, I think I fell in love with that awkward yet gentle boy. But one day, after losing to myself, I realized I no longer had the right to stand behind him and watch his back...
This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual people or events is purely coincidental. Please do not imitate.
