CHAPTER ONE
maddox
There are onlya few seconds left in the game, and the New York Werewolves are leading by two. Determined to keep our winning streak alive, I steal the ball from their point guard, Christian Baker, and launch a shot from half-court.
Everything around me moves in slow motion. The roar of the crowd is so loud it fades away, blending with the too-fast beat of my heart. My eyes flick to the clock again before locking back in on the ball.
Please, please, please go in.
I chew the inside of my cheeks, my heart pounding like a drum.
I swear, if it’s an airball, I’m quitting. A loss would be less humiliating.
I can already imagine what they would say about me on the sports news.
“What was Kamado thinking? I can’t believe this guy is in the running for MVP.”
“They said he would be the next Kyrie Lyons. What a joke. These young players don’t know what they’re doing.”
Theball drops into the net, swishing on its descent right before the buzzer sounds.
Fuck yes!I jump up, pumping my fist in the air as I watch the score flip in our favor.
I did it. Thank God! I really wasn’t looking forward to starting a new career at twenty-two.
“Dragooooonssss wiiiinnnnnn!” the commentator bellows.
The entire arena erupts with cheers. Everyone is on their feet, embracing one another and jumping with excitement. My teammates rush to me, smacking my shoulders as they dole out high fives with wide smiles, celebrating our win.
“Let’s fucking go! That’s what I’m talking about!”
“MVP! MVP! MVP!” The crowd chants in unison as they wave signs with my face on them.
From the moment I was four years old, I knew I wanted to play basketball. I would sit in front of the television, mesmerized, watching Kyrie Lyons dominate the court with his unmatched skills. He was drafted into the NBA straight out of high school and signed with the San Francisco Dragons, playing his entire career with them. He led the Dragons to multiple NBA championships, year after year.
The Dragons haven’t seen a playoff game since Kyrie retired a decade ago. I’m determined to change that. I want my name in the Hall of Fame. I want to be the next legend.
Family and friends have started to join our celebration on the court. Okasan pulls me into a warm hug, her eyes shining with pride. I glance around, searching for Otosan, but—like always—he’s nowhere to be found. Still, I’m grateful to have at least one parent by my side. “Masashi, you were amazing out there!”
I smile at the sound of my Japanese name. Masashi. Ambition. A pretty fitting name for me given the circumstances around my birth. I was premature. The doctors told my parents I might not survive, but there was a nurse named Maddox who refused to give up—who believed that I would be a little fighter.He was right—I pulled through, so my parents decided to name me after him.
“I would’ve never let you live it down if you’d missed,” my older sister Asami teases. “That would not have been a good look for someone in the running for MVP.”
Grabbing her, I dig my knuckles into her skull. “I think next time I’ll aim for your face.”
“Stop! You’re messing up my hair!” She pushes my arms, attempting to break free.
“Your hair is already messed up. I don’t know how you left the house like that.”
“That can be easily fixed—unlike your ugly face.”
Okasan shakes her head, chuckling softly. That pretty much sums up my relationship with my sister—constant jokes, but solid as a rock. When push comes to shove, we always have each other’s backs.
“Otosan got caught up with work and couldn’t make it,” Okasan says, her voice tinged with disappointment.
Otosan is the CEO and founder of Kamado Tech—the largest electronics company in the world. My parents moved from Osaka, Japan, when Asami was one to help expand his business. He was never too fond of my love for basketball. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps—to take over the company one day. But that was his dream, not mine.
Okasan, on the other hand, has always been my biggest supporter. She bought me my first basketball, and I’ve kept it all these years. It’s old, worn out, with most of the leather peeled away—but it holds so many memories.
