"Got it, Coach!"
Yuuto nodded.
He returned to the court and quietly activated his Weakness Correction ability, studying Lillard up close.
The two cooled off for several minutes.
During this stretch, Yuuto continuously observed Lillard's playing style—his shooting hot zones, his movement habits, everything.
All that data fed into his brain, which analyzed it, found optimal solutions, then issued commands to prepare his body.
Of course, "optimal" meant optimal for Yuuto—not necessarily an absolute answer.
Yuuto's mental attributes were high, but not invincible.
This was the limit of Weakness Correction.
It wasn't limitless like the Generation of Miracles assumed.
The talent's ceiling was Yuuto's own basketball IQ and cognitive ability.
You could only correct problems you identified.
Just like Reinhart—against Echizen Ryoga's "absorption," his talent simply couldn't activate.
If his brain were some supercomputer, then sure, Yuuto could evolve infinitely.
But it wasn't. So he couldn't truly become limitless.
This was NCAA March Madness. Future NBA stars—even superstars—played here.
This explosive speed... I can only counter it through anticipation.
Yuuto reached this conclusion quickly.
He noticed Lillard's burst was even faster than Aomine's. Plus Lillard was shorter with a lower dribble—much harder to pick clean.
The first half was nearly over.
The score remained tight. The Yuuto-Lillard duel wasn't as explosive as the opening minutes, but they continued battling possession by possession.
After Yuuto suddenly drained a pull-up three from beyond the arc, UCLA took a five-point lead.
That's when Lillard decided to make something happen.
He created a step of space from Yuuto.
Not much—just one step—but enough for Lillard to explode into full gear.
Almost simultaneously—
Yuuto's eyes widened. Red rings expanded outward from his pupils.
He took an incredibly precise step forward. By the time his weight settled, Lillard had already crashed into him.
Instantly, Lillard's balance was destroyed.
But he didn't give up—he reversed his momentum, forcing a spin, and rose for a contested shot.
That intention couldn't escape Yuuto's eyes.
Yuuto leaped with him and swatted the shot away—like an execution.
"YU!"
"A Chinese-style rejection!"
"He stopped Damian's shot!"
Yuuto squeezed past Lillard and took off for the fast break, launching from the free throw line, his body gliding through the air before—
BOOM!
"A free-throw line dunk!"
"My God, this is the most spectacular single play of March Madness so far!"
"Not a dunk contest—this is a live-game free-throw line slam!"
This was something Lillard could never do.
This was talent.
This was the kind of dunk that had earned Yuuto his "High-Flyer" nickname.
"He fouled me! He used his body to block my path—that definitely violated my cylinder!" Lillard complained to the referee.
He believed Yuuto must have shifted position during the play. He refused to accept that Yuuto had read his move.
The referee hesitated internally.
He'd seen Yuuto establish position, but the timing was too perfect—everything happened almost simultaneously.
But considering the recent news around this kid, he decided to give Yuuto the benefit of the doubt.
After all, he didn't want to get slapped with a "racist" label.
The last referee who'd gotten that tag—Eddie Warren—was currently looking for a new career.
"I'm absolutely certain I had position. Your offense was too predictable—like a baby who hasn't been weaned yet."
Yuuto wasn't about to watch Lillard pressure the refs.
Otherwise, future calls would go against him.
What Lillard heard was: This bastard just said I'm an unweaned baby? I'm the senior here—I'm a junior! [Fourth-year, technically.]
He glared daggers at Yuuto.
If at the start he'd simply wanted to beat Yuuto to boost his draft stock...
Now this was personal. Draft position didn't matter. He just wanted to bury this rookie into the earth's core.
Yuuto had tasted what worked.
Next defensive possession, he used the same strategy. But Lillard's offense wasn't as "predictable" as he'd claimed.
Right now, Weakness Correction only gave him fifty-fifty success.
When he guessed wrong, Yuuto would immediately "adjust"—and his hands would get a little dirty.
Lillard's constant complaining made the refs vigilant.
Those borderline plays were quickly caught.
Tweet!
The whistle blew. Lillard finally vented.
"See? He can't guard me without resorting to cheap tricks!"
"Save it, Damian. Stop crying to daddy like some—"
"What did you say? You dirty clown!"
The two clashed on the court, going head-to-head.
"I said you're a little girl who runs crying to daddy every time you get swatted!"
Yuuto leaned his forehead against Lillard's, piling on the insults.
"This isn't the 60s or 70s. This is the HD era! Every fan watching can see how clean my defense is—and they can see a guy who calls himself tough crying for the refs every time he gets locked up."
"You've opened my eyes. You call that dirty defense 'toughness'? That just proves you're scared of me."
Yuuto blinked in surprise.
Dame's mouth was actually pretty good.
In fact, Lillard's trash talk was NBA-level.
His future classic against Paul George—"Keep switching teams, you bum"—was a masterpiece.
Though later, Lillard couldn't take the endless playoff losses either and requested a trade himself... but that's another story.
Yuuto had a comeback ready, but both teams rushed over first.
Twenty players squeezed together, but everyone stayed disciplined.
Lots of verbal filth—motherf*ckers flying everywhere—but nobody was stupid enough to throw a punch. Instead, they kept goading the other side.
The arena came alive.
Fans traded chants. The game was thick with tension.
This was exactly what fans wanted to see.
...
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