Miuradai's half-court.
Murasame Kengo was loudly directing the defense.
"Lock down Rukawa Kaede!"
"And that guy who shoots threes—don't give him space!"
"As for number 16—ignore him! He's just filler!"
In his eyes, aside from that absurdly fast passing, Makino Juro showed almost no desire to attack.
A player like that?
Nothing to fear.
However.
The moment his words fell—
Miyagi Ryota dribbled past half-court without hesitation.
With a sharp bounce pass, he sent the ball straight to Makino Juro at the top of the arc.
"Oh? That lazy guy finally has the ball?"
A ripple of excitement spread through the crowd.
"Is he finally going to attack?"
Aida Hikoichi tightened his grip on his pen, eyes wide like saucers.
Makino Juro held the ball with one hand, his posture loose and relaxed.
In front of him, a Miuradai defender spread his arms wide, stepping forward with a fierce expression.
"Kid! Don't even think about getting past me!"
Makino Juro looked at him—
And yawned.
The next second—
His eyes changed.
The lazy aura vanished instantly, replaced by a violent, beast-like intensity breaking free of its cage.
[Super High-Speed Dribbling]
"BANG!"
The basketball slammed against the floor.
The defender's vision blurred.
No feints.
No probing steps.
Just pure speed.
An explosive first step pushed to the absolute limit.
"Wha—?!"
The defender's pupils shrank.
Before his brain could even issue the command to turn
A gust of wind had already brushed past his face.
The man—
Was gone.
"He… he's through?!"
The entire arena gasped.
Makino Juro was like a bolt of black lightning, tearing through Miuradai's first defensive line in an instant.
"Help defense! Move, now!!" Murasame shouted in panic.
Two Miuradai big men abandoned Sakuragi and Rukawa, rushing in like twin walls to trap him.
"Too slow."
Makino Juro's voice was cold—utterly devoid of emotion.
At full speed, facing the collapsing defense—
His body suddenly performed a motion that defied common sense.
A sudden stop.
Then, carried by inertia—
He leaned back sharply, his body nearly parallel to the ground.
Yet the ball never paused.
It followed the motion of his body, tracing a bizarre arc through the air.
[Formless Shot]
"That… there's no way that goes in?!"
Murasame's eyes widened, staring at that impossibly twisted posture.
And yet—
"Swish!"
The ball soared in a high arc.
Gliding past the defenders' fingertips.
And dropped cleanly through the net.
Barely even disturbing the netting.
Dead silence.
One second later—
"BOOM!!"
The roar of the crowd nearly blew the roof off the gymnasium.
"What WAS that?!"
"That kind of shot actually went in?!"
"That's insane! That's not basketball—that's acrobatics!"
In Ryonan's stands, Koshino Hiroaki's jaw nearly hit the floor.
"T-That's… something a human can do?"
Beside him, Sendoh Akira's smile faded.
In its place—
A rare, serious expression.
"That irregular shot again…"
"At that speed… under that level of pressure… and he still maintains such soft touch…"
"Makino Juro… you really are a monster."
…
But that—
Was only the beginning.
The next few minutes became a nightmare Miuradai would never forget.
Miuradai missed.
Sakuragi grabbed the rebound and passed to Miyagi.
Miyagi pushed forward—
And fed the ball to Makino Juro.
Facing Murasame this time—
Makino Juro didn't drive.
Instead.
Two steps beyond the three-point line—
He jumped.
[Template Switch]
[Midorima Shintarō Template — Activated]
[Skill Unlocked: Full-Court Range Shot (Beginner · 100% within Three-Point Line)]
[Stamina Consumption Doubled]
[Midorima Shintarō Panel]
[Dribbling 85, Passing 90, Steal 78, Basketball IQ 92]
[Mid-range 100, Three-point 100, Rebound 70, Block 65]
[Strength 75, Speed 84, Stamina 60, Vertical 80]
"That far?!" Murasame was shocked.
Makino Juro's body stretched elegantly in the air—
Left hand guiding the ball.
Right wrist snapping lightly.
The motion was textbook-perfect—
Yet carried an indescribable grace and composure.
The ball left his fingertips.
Spinning upward.
Higher…
And higher…
So high it almost seemed like it would hit the ceiling.
Everyone tilted their heads back, eyes tracking the orange arc.
Time itself seemed to freeze.
Then—
"Swish!"
The crisp sound of the net was like a death knell ringing in Miuradai's ears.
A super long-range three-pointer.
Nothing but net.
"WAAAAAHHH!!"
"A sniper! That's a sniper!!"
The crowd went insane.
Makino Juro landed—
Adjusted a pair of nonexistent glasses.
Turned and ran back on defense.
Without even glancing at the hoop.
"Is that… absolute confidence?"
Mitsui Hisashi stared at his back, his expression complicated.
As a shooter—
He understood better than anyone just how difficult that shot was.
…
Another possession.
Makino Juro drove into the paint.
Miuradai collapsed inward—
Four defenders sealing the lane completely.
"Stop him even if it kills you!!"
Murasame's eyes were bloodshot, like a gambler who had lost everything.
Makino Juro looked at the wall of bodies—
A faint trace of mockery curled at his lips.
He suddenly jumped near the free-throw line.
"You're dead!!"
Murasame and another center leapt simultaneously—
Four massive hands blotting out the sky, sealing every angle.
"Block him!!"
Just as everyone thought Makino Juro was about to be stuffed—
His body curled mid-air.
He pulled the ball back into his chest.
Then, through the narrow gap between those hands.
With an unbelievably deft flick of his wrist.
The ball slipped away like a magic trick—
From behind his back.
Not a shot.
A pass.
The ball dropped perfectly into the hands of an unguarded Rukawa under the basket.
Rukawa caught it—
Leapt.
And slammed it in one-handed.
"BOOM!!"
The rim trembled.
Only then—
Did Makino Juro land.
He flicked his wrist casually, glancing at the utterly broken Miuradai players.
"Too weak."
…
High in the stands.
A man in a purple jersey, stood with arms crossed, eyes sharp as an eagle.
The king of Kainan University Affiliated High School—
Maki Shinichi.
"A-Maki… what do you think?"
Beside him, Takasago Kazuma, Kainan's vice-captain, asked.
Maki's gaze first swept over Rukawa, who had just finished the dunk.
"Number 11… Rukawa Kaede."
"Smooth movements. Explosive power. Excellent feel for the ball."
"He's still raw, and a bit self-centered—but…"
"I can see a shadow of last year's Sendoh in him."
His voice was calm, steady—the judgment of a king.
"But…"
His tone shifted.
His eyes locked onto the figure of number 16 walking back—
Makino Juro.
"This number 16…"
Maki's brows furrowed tightly.
For the first time—
A look of genuine caution appeared on his face.
"I can't read him."
"His speed, strength, shooting range—even his court vision…"
"They're all beyond what a high school player should have."
"Those plays just now… the change of direction, that unreasonable long-range three…"
"If I faced him one-on-one…"
Maki didn't finish the sentence.
But Takasago was already too stunned to speak.
To make the man known as the 'King' Maki show such an expression—
And even hesitate in his judgment—
Just what kind of existence…
Was Shohoku's number 16?