James Lock

Chapter 2: Welcome to James Academy

As the jet sliced through the dense clouds, Kenzo sat in silence, his fingers drumming rhythmically on the armrest. Beside him, his younger brother Hiroshi stared blankly out the window, his face reflecting the surreal reality of the past few days. Their lives had been ripped from the familiar rhythm of small-time basketball courts and thrust into a world they barely understood.

The drone of the plane's engine was a distant hum in Kenzo's ears as his thoughts spiraled. They were on their way to James Academy—the most prestigious basketball academy in the world. Not just an academy for players, but a battleground where the best of the best would compete for the chance to inherit the legacy of LeBron James. This wasn't just a chance to play at the next level. This was an all-or-nothing pursuit of greatness, with failure meaning more than just losing—it meant the end of any hope for a career in professional basketball.

Kenzo glanced at Hiroshi, noticing how tightly his brother's hands gripped the seat. Hiroshi's confidence—so unshakable back home—seemed fragile now, his usually warm face pale under the cabin's dim lighting.

"How are you holding up?" Kenzo asked quietly, trying to ease some of the tension.

"I don't know," Hiroshi replied, his voice a whisper. "This is... bigger than I thought. Bigger than either of us thought."

Kenzo didn't respond right away. He couldn't. He felt the same way. But his responsibility as the older brother meant he had to keep it together. For Hiroshi's sake. For their family's sake.

A voice crackled over the intercom, snapping them out of their shared daze. "We'll be landing shortly at James Academy. Please prepare for descent."

A few hours later, they were descending through the fiery hues of a setting sun. The sprawling campus of James Academy emerged from the horizon, and Kenzo's breath caught in his throat. The place was more than just an academy. It was an architectural wonder—a compound of sleek, futuristic buildings surrounded by perfectly manicured courts, cutting-edge training facilities, and dormitories for the elite players who called this place home.

The plane landed smoothly, and soon the brothers were disembarking. The air was cooler than expected, crisp with the scent of freshly cut grass and... something else Kenzo couldn't quite place. The atmosphere buzzed with energy. The kind of energy that came from potential and anxiety clashing in equal measure.

As they descended the steps of the jet, a group of instructors stood in the distance, waiting for them. They were like statues—tall, imposing figures, each one radiating an intensity that made Kenzo's chest tighten. At the center of them stood a man who could only be Coach Mason, a legend in his own right, now the master of this academy. He was taller than Kenzo expected, his muscular frame clad in a sleek tracksuit. His eyes, a fierce blue, locked onto the brothers as they approached, dissecting them with just a glance.

"Welcome to James Academy," Coach Mason's voice boomed across the courtyard as they reached him. His gaze swept over the assembled group of new arrivals. "You've been chosen out of thousands for this opportunity. But know this—opportunity is only the beginning. The path to greatness is a gauntlet of challenges. Many of you will fall. Only the best will remain."

The weight of his words settled heavily on Kenzo. He glanced at Hiroshi, whose face had gone even paler. It was clear they had entered a world far beyond anything they'd ever known.

After the initial introduction, the brothers were herded toward the dormitory building, along with a dozen or so other new arrivals. Kenzo kept his eyes sharp, observing the massive campus that surrounded them. The scale of the place was overwhelming—there were courts of every kind, each one bathed in the dimming light of the sunset. Some courts looked ordinary, meant for drills or practice. But others... others looked like arenas meant for battles, with towering stands and high-tech scoreboards looming overhead.

The dormitory was a sleek, multi-story building that stood adjacent to the primary gymnasium. Kenzo could see lights flickering from inside the gym's windows, and he wondered if some of the elite players were already training. They were led through the glass doors of the dorm and down a long, sterile hallway. The walls were adorned with massive portraits of basketball legends, but the largest of them all was of LeBron James, his image looming at the end of the corridor.

Kenzo's breath caught when they were finally directed into their shared room—a spacious, minimalist suite that could have been mistaken for a luxury hotel room. There were two large beds, a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, and a small balcony that overlooked the campus. Hiroshi dropped his bag on the floor and flopped onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"We actually made it," Hiroshi muttered, more to himself than to Kenzo.

Kenzo was about to reply when the door opened again. Three other guys walked in, looking just as uncertain and out of place as the brothers. Kenzo recognized the same mix of awe and trepidation in their eyes. None of them were part of the elite—the ones who had already earned their reputations. No, these were the others. Like him and Hiroshi. The ones who still had to prove themselves.

The tallest of the three, a lanky guy with wild, curly hair, nodded awkwardly. "Hey, I guess we're roommates. Name's Riku."

"Kenzo," he replied, shaking Riku's hand, his grip firm despite his own nerves. "And this is my brother, Hiroshi."

Riku smiled, but there was tension behind it. "So, how are you feeling about all this?" he asked, glancing between the brothers. "Because I'm... I'm freaking out a little."

Hiroshi let out a short, nervous laugh. "Same, man. This is... insane. We didn't even know if we'd make it through the first tryouts."

"Tell me about it," the second guy, a shorter kid with bright eyes, chimed in. "I'm Yuto, by the way. I keep thinking they're gonna kick us out any second for some mistake. Like, 'Sorry, we made an error—none of you belong here.'"

Kenzo chuckled, the tension easing just slightly. "I guess we're all in the same boat then."

The last guy in the group, a quiet but stocky player with sharp features, leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Tatsuo," he said simply. "And yeah, we're in deep. They didn't tell us how this would all go down, but I have a bad feeling. They want us to break, that's for sure."

Kenzo met Tatsuo's intense gaze, feeling the unspoken weight of his words. This wasn't just a game or a tryout. It was a crucible, designed to weed out the weak. Kenzo could feel the unease simmering in the room, but underneath it, there was something else—something like determination. These guys, like him, weren't going to back down without a fight.

Just as Tatsuo opened his mouth to say something else, a loud knock echoed through the room, startling everyone. The door creaked open, revealing an older student—probably one of the academy's elite. He had an aura of confidence that could only come from experience, and his smirk told them all they needed to know: he was sizing them up.

"New blood, huh?" he said, eyeing the group. "Welcome to James Academy. Just so you know, this place isn't for everyone. You either become the best here or you go home. Permanently."

He didn't wait for a response before stepping back into the hallway, leaving them in tense silence.

"Well," Riku finally said, breaking the quiet, "I guess that's it. We're officially in it now."

Kenzo stared out the window into the fading light, the weight of everything bearing down on him. The battles, the competition, the constant scrutiny—it was all ahead of them. He could feel Hiroshi's gaze on him, searching for reassurance.

"We're not just here to survive," Kenzo said firmly, locking eyes with his brother. "We're here to win. To make it. And we're gonna give it everything we've got.