#spalding

MisMag 2 post ep 9.

Truly magical.

Summary: Let’s bring out that chaotic, loud, totally whipped idiot energy in full force! I write with y/n (your name).

Genre: Fluff, Humor, Chaos, Love-Struck Idiot Energy

Hanamichi Sakuragi

It was a lazy Sunday morning, the kind where the sun peeked in through half-open curtains and everything felt warm and still. You had just woken up, hair tousled, and wandered into the kitchen wearing one of Hanamichi’s oversized Shohoku t-shirts. Yesterday he dragged you onto the couch to watch the NBA game of his favorite team with him, it was getting late. That's why decided to stay over at his place. You grabbed the shirt, not thinking much of it—it was soft, smelled like him, and hung adorably just above your thighs.

You were humming while rummaging for cereal when—

SLAM.

The front door burst open like it owed someone money.

“Y/N~ I brought snacks—WAIT.”

You froze. He froze.

Silence.

Hanamichi blinked at you. At his shirt. ON yOu. Hanging loose over your frame. Bare legs. His name across your chest. Your sleepy smile.

“W-W-WH—?!”

His jaw dropped so hard it practically hit the floor.

“IS THAT—IS THAT MY SHIRT?!”

You tilted your head, spoon still in hand. “Yeah. Why? Isn't it washed or something?”

He dropped the snack bags with zero remorse.

“NO WAY. NOOOO WAY. YOU LOOK—YOU’RE—THAT’S ILLEGAL!”

You laughed. “It’s just a shirt, Hanamichi. Get over it”

“JUST A SHIRT?!” He was already pacing like a man possessed. “JUST?! THAT’S THE SHOOTING SHIRT I WORE DURING THE KAINAN MATCH! IT’S LEGENDARY! IT’S SACRED! AND YOU—YOU—LOOK LIKE—LIKE—”

You raised an eyebrow.You couldn't tell if he was happy or angry. “Like what?”

“LIKE MY FUTURE WIFE—WHAT THE HELL—Y/N!”

You blinked. He slapped a hand over his mouth like he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“I—I MEAN—I didn’t mean—I meant future breakfast buddy—NO WAIT—”

You walked over slowly, putting a finger on his chest to stop his spiral.

“So… you like it?”

He stared at you. Actually stared. His face turned a shade of red that matched his hair.

“I’m gonna pass out. I can’t handle this level of beauty first thing in the morning.”

You giggled and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “You’re such a drama queen.”

“I’M A MAN IN LOVE,” he declared, dramatically clutching his heart.

“WITH A GODDESS IN HIS SHIRT.”

“I’M NEVER WASHING IT AGAIN—wait no, you can keep it. Wear it forever. Make it your thing. You’ll be a fashion icon.”

You rolled your eyes, walking back to your cereal while he dramatically collapsed onto the couch.

“I was not prepared for this level of attraction,” he mumbled to himself, starfish-sprawled and deeply overwhelmed. “God is testing me.”

Ryota Miyagi

The gym buzzed with energy—sneakers squeaking on the court, echoing laughter, the rhythmic bounce of basketballs. Shohoku’s next big match was just minutes away.

Ryota was lacing up his shoes in the hallway, head down, headphones around his neck. Focused. Calm. Locked in.

Then he heard footsteps. Light. Familiar.

He looked up—just a glance.

And immediately forgot how to breathe.

“Y/N… what the—”

You stood there casually, a bag slung over your shoulder, rocking on your heels.

Wearing his Shohoku jersey. Number 7. A little too big. Hanging just right over your shorts. Hair pulled back. That shy smile on your lips like you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

“Like it?” you asked innocently.

He blinked. Once. Twice.

“You're wearing my jersey…” he said slowly, standing up like he was seeing an actual angel.

“Yours was the only clean one,” you teased.

“Lies,” he smirked, walking up to you. “You planned this. You absolutely planned this.”

You laughed. “Okay, maybe I did. You mad?”

He scoffed, slipping an arm around your waist.

“Mad? Babe, I’m about to have the best game of my life.”

He pulled you a little closer, his hand resting just at the hem of his jersey on you.

“You look way too good in this. It’s distracting.”

“Maybe that’s the point.Maybe i want the other team to win, your arrogance has become exhausting.”, you said cheekily.

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in until your noses almost touched.

“So what you’re telling me… is that you want me to score extra flashy today. You want me to show off.”

You gave him your best innocent look. “You’re saying you need me to look good to play well?”

He grinned—mischievous, smug, and absolutely yours.

“Nah. I always play good.” “But now I’ve got some extra motivation.” “My girl’s repping my number. That’s peak power-up energy.”

From down the hall, Sakuragi’s voice echoed—

“Miyagiiiii, quit making out with your girlfriend! Game starts in ten!”

“We’re not—” Ryota called back, then turned to you with a smirk. “Yet.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the grin.

“Go win the game, number seven.”

He kissed your forehead, lingering for a moment.

“Watch me.”

Then he jogged back toward the court, still glancing over his shoulder like he couldn’t quite believe his luck.

Kaede Rukawa

It was an early evening on a summer day. You were standing in front of the mirror, adjusting your outfit—a slightly oversized Rukawa jersey with your favorite shorts, hair casually tied back, lip balm on, a little mascara and the cute new blush you got, when you were out in the city last week. Sneakers laced. A little bag laying on the toilet seat. Nothing crazy.

Except… well, the jersey was his. Since you were going to a public viewing of the national basketball team, you wanted to wear something appropriate. Only you didn't have a national team jersey. So you took the next best thing…his jersey. And you looked really good in it. You always liked the colors, they brought out the color of your eyes.

Just as you reached for your bag, the door creaked open.

“You ready to—”

Rukawa stopped dead in his tracks.

Eyes on you. More specifically—on your outfit.

His mouth opened slightly, but he didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there in the doorway like he forgot what words were.

“…What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He blinked once. Twice.

“That’s… mine.”

You looked down. “Obviously. You left it here. I needed something for the occasion and it’s comfy. Plus,” you smiled, turning just a little to show off the back, “it has your name on it. Felt appropriate for the national team game. Maybe you will play there too”

“You’re wearing that to a public viewing?” His voice was still calm, but that tiny crease between his brows betrayed him.

“Yeah, why?” you teased, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “It’s cute, right?”

“It’s… not the issue.”

“Oh, there is an issue? Then what is?” you asked, stepping closer.

He was quiet again. The way only he could be—tense in that Rukawa kind of way, eyes flickering all over you but never quite meeting yours.

“People are gonna stare.”

That made you grin. “Good. Let them. I think i look pretty today”

You passed by him on the way to the door, and he turned slightly, his hand gently catching your wrist.

“Tch… don’t smile like that.”

You tilted your head, pretending innocence. “Like what?”

“Like you know what you’re doing.”

There it was—that Rukawa look. Half-exasperated, half-entranced, fully undone on the inside. You could practically hear the internal sirens going off in his head, even if his face was mostly composed.

You leaned up on your toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

“You coming or not, Rukawa?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Then he reached for his jacket with a soft sigh, muttering under his breath.

“You’re gonna give me a headache.”

But you caught the tiny smile pulling at his lips. He was proud, that you were wearing his name on your back, looking this good.

“And you like it,” you shot back.

“…Shut up.”

Takenori Akagi

They had won. All the stress, sweat, tears and ambition had finally paid off. It was only one win and they would have to have more than one to win the competition, but that didn't stop Shohoku from celebrating this important victory.

Agaki had texted you after the game. They had won. He would be there to pick you up in a few minutes. The boys, Ayako and Haruko wanted to celebrate with ramen and sake. He wanted you to come with him.You had supported the team with everything you had over the last few weeks. Prepare balls, get water and help Ayako with the planning. It was only fair that you tagged along.

You were just finishing the last touch of your outfit—belt tightened perfectly around your waist, a soft swipe of gloss on your lips—when you called out over your shoulder:

“Taka, could you grab me a jacket from the closet?”

A few minutes ago he had come in and made himself comfortable on the sofa. You were still fiddling with your earrings as he answered from the hallway:

“Yeah, of course. You’ll need one if we’re staying out late—don’t want you catching a cold.”

Classic Akagi. Ever the responsible, over-prepared, practical team captain—off the court and on.

But the moment he stepped back into the bathroom, holding your favorite jacket in his large hands...

He froze.

You looked up at him, grinning. “Thanks! Does it go with the—?”

And that’s when you saw it.

Captain Akagi: visibly malfunctioning: Eyes wide. Mouth slightly open and agape. Staring like you had just stepped onto the court with a flaming basketball or something.

“T-That’s—”

You blinked. “Hmm?”

“THAT’S MY FAVORITE SHIRT.”

You looked down at yourself innocently, as if you hadn’t styled his massive, well-worn tee into a very cute dress with a belt and boots.

“Oh! Yeah. Yours was just so comfy I couldn’t resist,” you said with a casual shrug, spinning slightly to show it off. “I figured it’d be cute with a belt. And since you left it, the last time you visited....”

He was still staring. Still not breathing.

“I—uh—y-you can’t just—why would you—THAT’S THE SHIRT I ALWAYS WEAR TO AWAY GAMES.”

“And now it’s the shirt I’m wearing to celebrate your win. Full circle.”

He actually dropped the jacket.

You watched in amusement as his brain tried to compute how his very serious, very manly, no-nonsense training tee had turned into… this. A fashion statement. A heart-stopping dress. On you.

“I can change if you want,” you teased.

“NO—NO! I MEAN—NO NEED. IT’S FINE. I—IT LOOKS FINE. YOU LOOK—”

You raised an eyebrow, walking up to him slowly, boots clicking softly on the floor. “I look…?”

“LIKE YOU’RE TRYING TO KILL ME.”

You grinned.

He groaned, pressing a hand to his face, clearly trying to keep it together. “How am I supposed to focus tonight knowing you’re walking around in that? In public? In front of the team”...He pauses for a moment at the thought. hanamichi wouldn't be able to stop himself from staring at you. That , he wouldn't allow.

“I mean, technically I’m wearing full coverage,” you joked, turning toward the mirror.

He looked like he was about to explode.

“This is exactly the kind of thing that distracts the team. This is how chaos starts. You’re lucky I’m not running warm-ups today—”

You turned to him, pulling his jacket around your shoulders and giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Relax, Captain. You already won the game. Let yourself enjoy the victory.”

Akagi stood there like a statue, ears turning bright red as he muttered under his breath:

“Why do I feel more stressed now than during the last ten seconds of the match…”

You laughed and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go, Gorilla Boy.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Kiminobu Kogure

Shohoku had just won their first match of the training cup, and spirits were high. The team was buzzing—Sakuragi was yelling about being the MVP (again), Ryota was flirting with a poor vending machine, and Kogure and Akagi were trying their best to remind everyone not to break anything, because “The Spalding company kindly invited us here, you guys.”

Night settled in over the camp. You’d been given a guest bunk in the girls’ dorm, but for now, you were waiting outside the team’s room to say goodnight to your boyfriend.

Only… there was one small issue.

You’d forgotten your sleepwear. Like, completely. Your bag? Empty of clothes. No backup shirt. Nothing. Since you didn't have to go to the training sessions, you had a little time between planning for the day with Haruko and Ayako. You had decided to borrow a shirt from your boyfriend for the night. Knowing him, he was over-packing anyway.

So when Kogure shyly cracked open the door to say goodnight, after you had knocked twice—he nearly dropped his glasses.

You stood there in the hallway light, barefoot, hair down, dressed in… his favorite old Shohoku T-Shirt. The faded one with a little tear at the sleeve. Soft and worn-in. On him, it was normal-sized.

On you? It looked like a dress.

“Y-Y/N… that’s…”

“Surprise,” you smiled sweetly, tugging at the hem. “I forgot my sleeping stuff. Borrowed yours. Hope that’s okay.”

His glasses fogged up. Literally.

“Y-Yeah! Of course! I mean—yes. Definitely okay. Completely okay. You look—um…”

He paused.

Then rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle, cheeks going bright pink, as he looked on the floor.

“…really cute.”

And just as he was about to lean in and kiss your forehead—

“PFFFFFT—”

“I TOLD YOU HE’D GO FULL BOYFRIEND MODE.”

The hallway door down the corridor BURST open.

There, peeking out like children spying on a drama scene, were: Ryota, Mitsui, Sakuragi, and even Rukawa, who just sighed and mumbled, “So loud,” from behind a manga.

“Look at him! He’s BLUSHING!” Mitsui whisper-shouted.

“Kogure’s got a CUTE GIRL in his SHIRT,” Sakuragi roared over the hallway, like it was breaking news. Now the other teams knew as well. Awkward.

“CAN I BORROW A SHIRT TOO?” Ryota teased, pretending to lean against the wall dreamily.

Kogure looked like he was about to pass out from pure embarrassment.

“You guys—! This is—SHOULD YOU EVEN BE HERE?! Go to bed!”

“Ko....Little reminder we live here!” Sakuragi shouted. “It’s our room!”

“Then go inside it!!”

You giggled softly, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your cheek against his chest.

“They’re just jealous their girlfriends don’t look this good in their clothes.”

Kogure froze for a second… then slowly wrapped his arms around you too, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

“...Yeah. Probably.”

“AWWWWWWWWWWW,” came the chorus from the peanut gallery.

You reached up and kissed his cheek.

“Goodnight, captain.”

And just like that, Kogure was completely done for. Standing in the doorframe, arms still around you, eyes shining behind his glasses like he’d just won the whole tournament by himself.

BONUS

Ayako + Haruko: Continuation of Kogures Story

The shouting had been going on for a while.

Muffled laughs. Thuds. Yelling. And someone shouting, “KOGURE’S GOT RIZZ?!”

Haruko blinked up from her futon, concerned.

“Do you think… something happened to the boys?”

Ayako, already brushing her hair in the dim light, sighed dramatically.

“Something always happens when Sakuragi gets bored after 10 PM.”

She set down her brush.

“Let’s go , we should check it out.”

Moments later, the two of them peeked into the hallway—and froze.

There you were, in Kogure’s shirt, standing adorably close to him, looking cozy and radiant under the soft lights.

Meanwhile, the boys were yelling like it was a sporting event:

“KOGURE, GIVE US A SPEECH!” “HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN GOING ON?!” “DID YOU CONFESS FIRST OR HER?!”

Kogure was desperately trying to push them back into their room, glasses fogged up and flustered to his core.

“You’re embarrassing her—guys! Go back inside!” “Sakuragi, get off the wall! Ryota, stop recording!”

Ayako stepped in first like a general leading her squad into battle.

“Alright, children,” she barked, clapping her hands once.

Every boy froze on instinct.

“Back to your rooms. Don’t make me run you laps at sunrise.”

“But—” Ryota started.

Ayako raised an eyebrow. That was all it took. Mitsui grabbed Sakuragi by the collar and started dragging him back inside, past the couple through the door.

Haruko came up behind her, giving you a gentle squeeze on the shoulder.

“Sorry they ruined your moment,” she whispered with a sweet smile. “But… you do look super cute.”

You smiled shyly, whispering a thank you.

Ayako turned to Kogure, arms crossed but her expression soft.

“Congrats, Captain. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Kogure coughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Th-Thanks. I didn’t exactly plan this…”

“Yeah, but your heart clearly did,” Haruko added dreamily.

__________________ later at the girls dorm room _______________

The lights were dimmed, the futons were rolled out, and the gossip? Oh, it was flowing.

Haruko was curled up with a pillow, grinning ear to ear. Ayako had her legs crossed, journal in hand, pretending to be unbothered while absolutely thriving.

“Did you see the way Kogure looked at her?” Haruko whispered, starry-eyed. “Like she hung the moon,” Ayako smirked, jotting something in her journal. “That man is fully down bad. I didn't know that our little y/n could have such an effect on men”

“He couldn’t even speak for a second!” “He looked like someone unplugged him!” “I didn’t think it was possible, but he might be more romantic than Rukawa.”

Ayako snorted. “Please Haruko. Rukawa would die if anyone caught him feeling emotions.”

They both giggled, then turned their attention back to you—laying in your bunk, wearing Kogure’s shirt, cheeks still warm with leftover blush.

Haruko reached over to gently nudge your arm.

“Sooo… are we invited to the wedding, or…?”