On the court.
Miuradai's captain, Murasame Kengo, looked at this bizarre lineup and let out a scornful snort.
"So what, you swapped in a bunch of dyed-hair punks with earrings and think you can win?"
"Don't make me laugh."
"This is basketball, not a street brawl."
"Hey, redhead."
He pointed at Sakuragi Hanamichi.
"Do you even know how to play? Don't start crying for your mom later."
Veins instantly popped on Sakuragi's forehead.
Just as he was about to explode—
Akagi Takenori, who was heading off the court, walked over.
"Sakuragi."
Akagi placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.
"I hate to admit it, but right now, you're the only one who can take my place."
His expression was unusually serious.
"Forget offense. You've got one job—"
"Lock down the paint."
"Grab every single rebound."
"Don't disappoint me."
Sakuragi froze for a moment.
This was the first time the "gorilla" had entrusted him with something so seriously.
A surge of responsibility shot from his feet straight to his head.
"Hmph, obviously!"
"I'm a genius—the King of Rebounds!"
"Just sit back and watch, Gorilla!" Sakuragi puffed out his chest, nose practically in the air.
Akagi's mouth twitched.
Suppressing the urge to punch him, he turned and walked off.
The game resumed.
Shohoku's lineup had undergone a complete transformation:
Power Forward (PF): Sakuragi Hanamichi
Small Forward (SF): Rukawa Kaede
Point Guard (PG): Miyagi Ryota
Shooting Guard (SG): Mitsui Hisashi
And Makino Juro…
He stood in a strange position.
Neither guard nor forward—
Like a ghost drifting outside the system.
On the sidelines, Anzai Mitsuyoshi adjusted his glasses, a white glint flashing across the lenses.
"Makino Juro's positional versatility, combined with Sakuragi's athletic talent…"
"That is Shohoku's chemistry."
FWEET!
The game restarted.
Miuradai inbounded the ball—
But before it even crossed half-court, a lightning-fast figure shot forward.
"So fast!!"
The entire arena gasped.
Miyagi Ryota moved like a cheetah, instantly closing in on the opposing point guard.
"This speed… how is that possible?!"
The Miuradai guard panicked, nearly losing control of the ball.
In that split second—
Miyagi's hand cut in like a scalpel.
SMACK!
Steal!
"Fast break!!"
Miyagi roared, turning into a blur as he dashed downcourt.
"Don't even think about it!" Murasame shouted, rushing back on defense.
But Miyagi never even looked at the basket.
At full speed, his wrist flicked subtly—
The ball shot out from behind his back, as if it had eyes, flying toward the left corner.
There—
Rukawa had already arrived.
Catch. Jump. Layup.
Smooth as flowing water. Effortless.
"Swish!"
In.
The entire sequence took less than three seconds.
"Waaaah! That number 7 is so fast!!"
"And number 11 is so cool!!"
The crowd instantly erupted.
On the sidelines, Ayako waved her paper fan excitedly.
"Nice one, Ryota! That's the speed of a top point guard!"
The moment Miyagi heard her voice—
He broke.
His eyes turned into giant hearts, his whole body practically floating.
"Ayako… she praised me… she praised me…"
"Hehehe…"
While Miyagi was lost in a pink daydream—
Miuradai quickly inbounded the ball.
Taking advantage of his distraction, they launched a long pass.
"Watch out!!" Kogure shouted from the sidelines.
The opposing forward caught it cleanly and was about to counterattack—
But the moment he turned—
The ball suddenly slipped from his hands.
Not a mistake.
It had been poked away.
The ball bounced once on the floor—
Then, as if guided by fate, flew toward midcourt.
Right where Makino Juro stood.
He didn't even look at the ball.
Didn't adjust his stance.
The moment it arrived—
His wrist snapped like a loaded spring, casually pushing it forward.
[Accelerated Pass]!
The basketball turned into an orange laser, tearing through the air with a sharp screech.
BOOM!!
The speed was terrifying.
It shot through the gap between three defenders
And slammed precisely into Mitsui's chest beyond the three-point line.
Mitsui staggered half a step back from the sheer force of the pass.
But he didn't hesitate.
Adjust. Jump. Release.
A textbook shooting form.
His wrist snapped down with perfect softness.
The ball arced through the air—
A flawless rainbow.
In that moment, time seemed to slow.
In the stands, older spectators stared at that familiar figure—
That perfect form.
And in an instant, memories came rushing back.
"That posture…"
"Isn't that from Takeishi Junior High…?"
"Swish!!"
The crisp sound of the net was like music.
Three-pointer!
"MITSUI HISASHI!!"
"That's MVP Mitsui Hisashi!!"
Someone recognized him and shouted in excitement.
"Oh my god! He's at Shohoku?!"
"That shot… it's like a painting!"
The score instantly became:
16 : 18
In the blink of an eye, the gap had shrunk to just two points.
Miuradai's coach jumped up from the bench, face livid.
"What the hell are you doing?! DEFENSE!!"
On Ryonan's side.
Koshino Hiroaki's mouth hung open.
"Th-this… is Shohoku's real strength?"
"So strong…"
"That speed from number 7, that three-point shot from 14, and number 11's finishing…"
"The scariest one is number 16." Hikoichi's hand trembled.
Sendoh Akira narrowed his eyes and pointed at Makino Juro, who was casually walking back.
"That pass just now… he didn't even look."
On the court.
Mitsui stared at his hands, a confident smile curling at his lips.
"My touch… is back."
He turned to Makino Juro and gave him a thumbs-up.
Makino Juro waved it off casually, glancing at his system panel.
[Stamina: 60]
Not bad. At least a passing score.
Looks like the recent stamina training was paying off.
The game continued.
And the tempo was completely controlled by Shohoku.
Miuradai might have had the physical advantage
But against this group of "talent monsters," they looked clumsy and slow.
"Give me the ball!!"
Sakuragi fought for position in the paint, shouting loudly.
Miyagi glanced over, flicked his wrist—
The ball flew into Sakuragi's hands.
"Heh heh heh—watch closely!"
"Behold my genius move—the 'Commoner Layup'!!"
Sakuragi took the ball, dribbled once, then charged toward the basket with stiff, awkward steps.
"Don't underestimate me!"
Murasame rotated over, a vicious glint flashing in his eyes.
He knew the redhead was a beginner—
So he didn't hold back.
The moment Sakuragi jumped—
Murasame slammed into him, his hand striking directly across Sakuragi's arm.
SMACK!
A sharp sound echoed.
Sakuragi—and the ball—were swatted down, stumbling backward several steps.
FWEET!
"Personal foul! Shooting foul—two free throws!"
The referee's whistle rang out.