Haizaki Shogo pushed open the door to his room, a basketball slung over one shoulder inside a ball bag. He spoke toward his mother, who was busy in the kitchen.
"I'm heading out, Mom."
"Be careful, Shogo-kun. Your brother will finish the enrollment procedures for your new school in a few days. When the time comes, you'll need to go and register in person."
"Got it!"
He stepped outside, closed the door behind him, and left the luxurious-looking villa.
To be honest, the Haizaki family's financial situation was quite good. His father had left behind a sizable inheritance and a company. As the eldest son, his brother inherited everything. As for him—the youngest—his only role was to study, read, and write, becoming a typical rich second-generation heir.
That upbringing had shaped the former Haizaki Shogo's vulgar habits and domineering, predatory personality. At the same time, it had given birth to a skill like Pillage. That alone was enough to prove that the previous Haizaki Shogo's ability and talent were absolutely not inferior to most people.
As for whether he was truly beneath the members of the Generation of Miracles, that was hard to say. After all, strength was the result of both talent and training.
The former Haizaki Shogo had lacked training. Whether he had ever fully tapped into his own potential remained an open question.
Whatever had happened before, whatever had been done—that was all in the past. Now that I had taken over this body, everything would be redefined by me.
On the data panel in his vision, that conspicuous Medium stamina stat stood out clearly as his weakness and biggest flaw.
This was a fatal issue. Without stamina, you couldn't even finish a full game. If you couldn't last an entire match, what was the point of talking about competition? Might as well buy a block of tofu and smash your head into it.
Stepping out onto the street, Haizaki Shogo walked while planning a stamina-training regimen in his mind, heading toward the nearest public basketball court to his home.
When he arrived, several street teams were already playing intense 3-on-3 games. A crowd of spectators—men and women, young and old—had gathered around the court.
It was lively, and that atmosphere only made the players go even harder. No one wanted to lose, no one wanted to admit defeat. After all, pride mattered—especially with so many eyes watching.
Haizaki Shogo assessed the situation but didn't jump in immediately. Instead, he began running along the small rubber track surrounding the court.
First, it was for warming up.
Second, it was to gradually build his stamina.
As he ran, Haizaki Shogo frequently checked the data panel, trying to see if he could discover anything new.
Stamina was far too important. Without good endurance, even if you entered the Zone, it wouldn't last long. Once your stamina ran out and you were forced off the court, losing the game at a critical moment—that would be a terrible trade-off.
Running while monitoring his stats felt surprisingly good to him.
Having just begun to merge with this body, an adaptation period was inevitable. And running—full-body exercise—was the best way to get used to a new body.
After about fifty minutes of running, his warm-up was basically complete. At that moment, Haizaki Shogo received an invitation to join a team.
"Hey, man, my name's Fuji Shusuke. We're short one person—how about teaming up with us and playing against them? They're pretty strong. Interested?"
The man who approached him was a young adult, a little over 180 centimeters tall—only slightly shorter than Haizaki Shogo, who stood at 188 cm.
In Japan, their heights alone already made them stand out.
But… Fuji Shusuke? What kind of name was that? The genius Fuji Shusuke? The tennis guy?
Since he was already warmed up, Haizaki Shogo thought for a few seconds before replying.
"Sure. But I'm not that good yet. If you don't mind."
"Hahaha, come on, come on. It's not an official match—just do your best."
Haizaki Shogo nodded and walked over with them. The two teammates who would be playing alongside him looked around eighteen or nineteen years old—slightly older than him.
He guessed they were either high school seniors about to graduate,
or college freshmen who had just entered university. Their personalities were cheerful and outgoing.
In less than fifteen minutes, it was finally Haizaki Shogo and Fuji Shusuke's turn to play.
The moment the three of them stepped onto the court, they realized their opponents were imposing. The three men across from them were drenched in sweat, their breathing steady and controlled—true adults.
Whether it was physique, awareness, strength, or willpower, frequent athletes were rarely weak. These three carried a strong presence.
Fuji Shusuke took the ball handed over by one of the opponents, stepped beyond the three-point line, and immediately passed it to another teammate he was familiar with. That unfortunate supporting-role teammate was instantly guarded and couldn't break through.
Seizing an opening, the ball was passed to Haizaki Shogo.
The moment he caught it, a familiar sensation surged through him—
the hand feel of the former Haizaki Shogo, mixed chaotically with his own current sensations.
Conflicting. Disordered. Contradictory.
Familiar yet strange. The sense of distance and disparity was overwhelming, leaving Haizaki Shogo momentarily stunned.
What the hell? Wasn't I supposed to score the moment I got the ball?
Why is everything going wrong the moment it's my turn?!
At that instant, Haizaki Shogo felt unreal—like he was himself, yet not himself at all. He froze on the spot.
And then—there was no "then."
The ball was stolen. Easily. Effortlessly.
Haizaki Shogo was frozen the moment he caught the ball. How could it not be stolen? If it weren't stolen, everyone else would have to be idiots.
"Hey, man, what're you doing? Don't space out."
Fuji Shusuke came over and patted Haizaki Shogo on the shoulder, signaling him not to be nervous. Losing the ball, losing points—it wasn't a big deal.
In everyone else's eyes, Haizaki Shogo was just too tense, fumbling awkwardly.
Shaking his head to indicate he was fine, Haizaki Shogo shifted into defense.
And the moment he did, the highlight of the entire game appeared.
Without touching the ball and focusing solely on defense, Haizaki Shogo suddenly became terrifying. It was extremely difficult for his opponents to break through him.
This was the manifestation of Haizaki Shogo's fundamental strength. Yet the moment he touched the ball, that sensation of two different hand-feels switching back and forth drove him crazy.
As a result, his performance fluctuated wildly—brilliant one moment, rookie-level the next, committing numerous low-level mistakes.
Fortunately, on a streetball court like this, no one cared about your inner struggles or odd behavior.
People only cheered for made shots, applauded scorers, and celebrated baskets.
Despite the shock, Haizaki Shogo was still happy—because he soon noticed that the more times he handled the ball, the weaker that chaotic sensation became. It was slowly fading away.
This indirectly proved that the fusion process was accelerating as he became more familiar with basketball.
Haizaki Shogo believed that complete integration wouldn't take much longer. From now on, no matter what he did, he planned to keep a basketball with him—getting used to the feel, getting used to basketball in this world as quickly as possible.
Thus, regrettably, in his very first outing that afternoon, Haizaki Shogo lost his first unofficial match in this world.
That loss led to a strange scene in the villa that evening. Haizaki Ryoga and their mother both stared at Haizaki Shogo with puzzled expressions.
Because no matter what he was doing, Haizaki Shogo never let go of the basketball. He even carried it into the bathroom—and carried it back out again.
The mother and son in the living room were completely baffled.
But seeing that Haizaki Shogo had returned to normal and stopped going out to cause trouble was already the greatest comfort they could ask for.
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150 Power Stones = Bonus Chapter
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