[KNB] Chapter : 16

"Teach me how to play basketball—properly."

On their way home, Kuroko finally voiced his request.

His tone was calm, but his eyes held quiet determination.

He didn’t dream of becoming a superstar or dazzling the court with flashy moves.
He simply wanted to play normally—to make a layup without air-balling it, to hold the ball without fumbling after two steps.

"I want to play like you, Suichi-kun," Kuroko said, his gaze filled with earnest admiration.

Han stroked his chin thoughtfully.

He understood the potential buried within Kuroko.
The boy would never thrive under the blinding lights of a professional league—his very existence was designed to disappear.
But in school-level competition, in the chaos and rhythm of youth basketball… Kuroko could shine.

Han knew exactly how to shape that raw ability.
Now the question was—how to spin this for more popularity?

He could already envision the narrative: "A prodigy with a sharp eye mentors an invisible underdog."
There was potential here—not just in Kuroko’s growth, but in the drama of the journey.

Maybe even throw in a bit of Gojo-style arrogance, just for flair.

“No problem,” Han finally said, smiling. “Let’s start tomorrow.”

“After school?”
“Can’t—I have work. Let’s meet during lunch.”

“Understood! Thank you, Suichi-kun!” Kuroko beamed and left, lighter on his feet.

Day Two. Lunch Break.

Han, Kuroko, and Riko stepped into the basketball club.

Riko wasn’t here to play.
She was here to watch the show.

“If I’m going to teach you, I need to know what we’re working with,” Han said, tossing a ball at Kuroko. “Let’s see your best shot.”

Kuroko caught the ball, nodded seriously, and marched toward the hoop with the elegance of a granny on a morning walk.

He raised the ball like it was a divine offering… and hurled it sideways across the rim, completely missing the hoop.

The ball didn’t even kiss the iron.

Clang.
Chopsticks dropped to the ground with a dramatic clatter.

Riko stood frozen.
Even she could shoot better than that.

“Wow…” she muttered. “That’s... impressively bad. You really don’t know how to play, huh?”

Kuroko had warned them he wasn’t good.
But this? This wasn’t just “not good”—this was preschool level.

“Kuroko,” Riko said flatly. “You’re not... athletically challenged, are you?”

She didn’t even bother with honorifics. Age-wise, she had the seniority anyway.

“Riko, shut up,” Han cut in smoothly, his tone firm. “Even if someone is athletically hopeless, they still have the right to play.”

Thud.
Kuroko felt that like a dagger to the chest.

“That’s your version of encouragement?!”

‘RIP Sunspot-kun…’

‘Truth hits harder than a fist.’

“You’re acting all noble, but weren’t you about to say the same thing?” Riko shot back, puffing her cheeks in annoyance.

“I held it in,” Han replied coolly. “You didn’t. At least I would’ve been tactful. It’s called emotional intelligence—look it up.”

Thud.
Another knife to the chest.

“I’d prefer if neither of you discussed this at all, thanks,” Kuroko thought bitterly.

Kuroko was a little downcast, but he quickly composed himself and said with a determined look:

“This is where I stand right now, Suichi-kun. Please teach me how I can improve!”

Han nodded thoughtfully, slipping into teacher mode.

“First, you need to work on your dribbling. It’s not just about bouncing the ball—it’s about control. Your dribbling speed is too slow, and that makes your drives completely ineffective. You’ll need to practice a lot more.”

“Uh-huh! Got it. What else?”

“Next, shooting accuracy. You can’t keep throwing bricks from beneath the rim or missing everything with airballs. At the end of the day, basketball is about putting points on the board. If you can’t score, you’re just running around.”

“Right, makes sense! Anything else?”

“Of course—”

Han went on and on, explaining every nuance: from basic footwork to reading an opponent’s gaze, from maintaining a low center of gravity while defending, to building court awareness.

Kuroko listened with rapt attention. But by the end of it… his mind was a blur.

He blinked.

Had he actually learned anything?

Wasn’t the point of asking a genius for help to make it easier to understand, not harder?

Eventually, Kuroko asked the real question.

“Suichi-kun… how do you play?”

Han paused for a moment, habitually stroking his chin before offering an answer so simple, so infuriatingly obvious, it could only come from someone born gifted.

“Well, first, I just get the ball in the basket. If someone tries to block me—I dodge or go around. Simple.”

“After that, it’s all about defense. Defense is what determines a team’s stability.”

“When you're facing someone with the ball, stay sharp. Watch carefully—is he about to drive? Shoot? Pass? If he drives—steal. If he passes—intercept. If he shoots—block.”

“Whatever he wants to do, your job is to make sure he fails.”

“Got it?”

Kuroko nodded slowly.

He got it.

Except… he didn’t get anything at all.

“Classic advice: Just score to win.”

“Defend everything. You think everyone’s got eyes like you?”

“Would love to hear something I can actually use, thanks.”

“Ah yes—peak Versailles.”

The live barrage lit up with laughter. Han’s attempt at mentorship came off more like a divine sermon from someone who didn’t even know what it was like to struggle.

Still, it wasn’t a loss. On the contrary—it helped polish Han’s “inhuman genius” persona even more.

Popularity value: +1, +1, +1...
He could almost hear the cha-ching in his head.

Kuroko, however, was reeling. The lunch break ended, and all he had was a headache and a vague memory of Han casually explaining things like defending a full-speed drive was as easy as tying shoelaces.

That afternoon, he shared his frustrations with friends from the Third string.

“Honestly, it felt like Suichi-kun was just messing with me…”

One of them immediately chimed in.

“Of course he was. Guys like him aren’t meant to teach. He’s not just talented—he’s terrifying. Didn’t he almost beat a master swordsman when he was eleven? He made his own sword style at ten!”

“Exactly,” another added. “For him, playing basketball is like breathing. You can’t teach breathing.”

“That’s the truth, my friend.”

“Kuroko shouldn’t have asked Han for help. Their worlds are too different.”

“You can’t teach instincts. And Han doesn’t even know how talented he is.”

“He could probably steal the ball with his eyes closed. Meanwhile, Kuroko can’t even land a layup.”

“He should stick to being invisible. At least he’s good at that.”

The group’s complaints resonated across the barrage.
Meanwhile, Han, watching from the sidelines, smiled contentedly.

So much attention.
So many eyes.

“Teaching? Sure, I’ll do it. But I’m still going to harvest all that sweet popularity while I’m at it.”

Genius, after all, is best admired from a distance.