Reborn as Naoya Zenin: A New Destiny in the Zenin Clan

(This week has been full of exams, and only today did I finally have some free time. I wasn't sure how to write the basketball match, so please excuse the mess) 

As they stepped onto the court, Gojo immediately grabbed a basketball, spinning it on his finger .

"First to 21 wins. Losers pay for dinner for the whole month," he said with a cocky grin.

Naoya smirked, cracking his knuckles. "Fair enough."

Geto sighed, rolling his shoulders.

The game started fast, with all three pushing themselves. Gojo's Six Eyes gave him an unfair advantage, allowing him to react instantly.

Naoya, however, was just as skilled in his own way. He relied on his natural speed, dodging and weaving past their defenses, his movements making him a tough opponent.

Geto didn't have their natural advantages, but he made up for it with strength and smart plays. He used his body to block, found good openings, and threw the ball at just the right moments. 

"Not bad," Gojo laughed as he sank a perfect three-pointer. "But you guys better step up unless you wanna pay for my food all month."

Naoya smirked, not letting Gojo's words get to him. Instead, he focused on the game. Without cursed energy, it was a battle of pure skill and physical ability. And in that aspect, Naoya had the edge.

Gojo had his Six Eyes, something he couldn't turn off, giving him an awareness no normal person could match. But Naoya? He was the strongest physically among the three. His speed and agility were on another level.

The moment Gojo dribbled forward, Naoya moved. In an instant, he stole the ball cleanly, catching Gojo off guard. He didn't waste a second—dashing past both of them with incredible speed.

Geto turned, trying to block him, but Naoya was already in the air. With a powerful leap, he dunked the ball effortlessly, the hoop shaking from the impact.

Landing smoothly, he glanced at Gojo and Geto with a cocky grin. 

Gojo blinked, then let out a low whistle. "Damn,i did not think you will be this exited for something as easy as that."

Geto crossed his arms, frowning. "If we let him keep running wild, we're gonna lose."

Gojo smirked and cracked his neck. "Alright, guess I should take this a little more seriously."

The game heated up. Naoya's speed were a problem, but Gojo and Geto weren't pushovers. Gojo started using his reflexes to predict Naoya's moves better, cutting off his paths before he could speed past them. Geto, on the other hand, used smart positioning forcing Naoya into tougher shots.

Still, Naoya wasn't backing down. He dodged, spun, and slipped past them with ease, scoring another point with a quick layup.

"Are you guys even trying?" he taunted, smirking.

Gojo tilted his head, grinning. "Trying? Nah. I'm just making it fun. If I went all out, you'd be crying by now."

The moment Gojo got the ball, he didn't hesitate. With a lazy flick of his wrist, he launched it almost the full length of the court—and it swished through the hoop effortlessly.

Before Naoya could even process what just happened, Gojo tossed the ball straight at his chest, forcing him to catch it on reflex. "Here, I'll be nice. Try again. Maybe this time you won't embarrass yourself."

Naoya scoffed, dribbling once as his smirk widened. "Oh? is That so?"

He stepped forward.

"Don't think I didn't notice—you're struggling to keep up with me. Must be tough, relying on those eyes instead of real skill."

Without another word, he shot forward, dribbling past Gojo with a burst of speed, aiming straight for the hoop.

Gojo, however, was ready this time. Just as Naoya went for the layup, Gojo moved faster than expected, blocking the shot with a smug grin.

"Relying on my eyes?" Gojo said,

"Please, I could beat you blindfolded."

Naoya landed, scowling. "Tch."

Geto chuckled, taking the ball from Gojo. "Alright, enough trash talk. Let's see if you can actually score now."

The next play, Geto faked a pass to Gojo, then spun around Naoya and went for a dunk of his own. The ball slammed through the hoop, making Naoya click his tongue in annoyance.

"See? I can score too," Geto said with a smirk.

Naoya scoffed. "Lucky shot."

The score kept climbing, none of them willing to lose. The court echoed with the sound of sneakers screeching, the ball bouncing, and occasional trash talk. The game wasn't just about winning anymore—it was about pride.

The game had reached a deadlock, both Gojo and Naoya stuck at 20 points, with neither willing to give an inch. The tension was thick in the air, each of them determined to score that last, game-winning point. Even Geto had managed to reach 20 points because of that, just one away from taking the win himself.

Gojo wiped the sweat from his forehead " Alright, alright, I'll show you how it's done."

Geto, standing off to the side, watched the two of them intently. His arms were crossed, but his expression was calm. Geto muttered, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "I'll just wait for you to mess up."

The next few moments were a whirlwind of speed, skill, and raw athleticism. Gojo moved like a shadow, his steps light and quick, his body twisting and turning with an almost unnatural precision Every time Naoya shifted or lunged, Gojo was already there, ready to counter, his focus unshakable.

Naoya, however, wasn't backing down, dodging and weaving with his speed and strength, making it hard for Gojo to get through.

Gojo tried to make a break for the basket, weaving through Naoya's defenses, but Naoya anticipated it and blocked him. They collided mid-air, both reaching for the ball, and for a moment, the game seemed like it could go either way.

But then, just as they both reached for the ball again, Geto's eyes flickered with understanding. He wasn't as flashy or as quick as Gojo or Naoya, but he knew how to wait for his moment. As both of them were momentarily distracted, Geto took a quick step forward, grabbed the ball, and, with a swift movement, made his way toward the hoop.

Before either Naoya or Gojo could react, Geto launched himself into the air and made a smooth, clean shot, the ball swishing through the net.

"21," Geto said coolly, landing back on his feet, a quiet satisfaction on his face.

Naoya and Gojo both stared at him, stunned for a moment. Gojo was the first to break the silence, letting out a laugh. "Well, damn, looks like we both got outplayed."

Naoya's smirk faltered for the first time. He clenched his jaw, glancing at the scoreboard as if refusing to believe it. Losing to Gojo would've been annoying, but at least expected. Losing to Geto? That stung.

"Tch." Naoya scoffed, running a hand through his hair.

Gojo draped an arm over Naoya's shoulder, grinning. "It seems that you have to pay ~"

"I have? Do you mean we have?" Naoya shot back, shrugging Gojo's arm off with an annoyed look.

Geto chuckled, crossing his arms as he watched the two of them bicker. "A deal's a deal. You two lost, so you're covering dinner. No excuses."

Gojo pouted dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if he'd been wounded. "Geto, my friend, I thought we had a bond. And here you are, siding with Naoya against me."

Geto raised an eyebrow, his expression deadpan. "I'm not siding with anyone. I'm just enforcing the rules."

Naoya smirked, clearly enjoying Gojo's theatrics.

Gojo sighed, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. "Fine, fine. But don't expect me to hold back next time. You won't get another lucky shot."

 "Lucky shot? I seem to recall beating both of you fair and square."

Naoya rolled his eyes, his smirk sharpening. "Yeah, sure, buddy. Keep telling yourself that."

Gojo grinned, slinging an arm around Geto's shoulders again. "Well, let's make it official. This is now the list of who's the winner of this match: Gojo and Geto first, Naoya Zen'in last~" 

Naoya clearly knew Gojo's personality from his past life, but he still couldn't fully comprehend just how shameless this guy was—forgetting, of course, that he was pretty shameless himself.

"Right, right. Now, about that dinner," Geto said with a grin. "I'm starving."

Naoya let out a frustrated but amused sigh and was preparing to leave.

The three of them left the court, each of them with their own unique sense of pride, but with one thing clear: there was always next time.