Seirin High's other members were also watching in confusion, unable to understand why such an unexpected situation had unfolded.
Originally, they had come to witness the so-called "dual dragons" clash between Aomine Daiki and Akashi Seijuro, hoping to measure the gap between themselves and those monsters of talent.
But now, they couldn't see anything at all.
Everything had been disrupted.
Not far from Seirin's seats, on the opposite side, Kaijo High was also in heated discussion.
"Kasamatsu, do you know what's going on?" someone asked.
"Kuroko's—no, Akashi's team isn't playing in this league. I don't know the exact reason. As for why Aomine isn't playing either… I don't get it. But hey, we can always guess! Maybe we'll get it right!"
Kise Ryouta started off answering seriously, drawing everyone's attention as they leaned in to listen closely.
But by the end of his sentence, when he casually suggested guessing, everyone's faces darkened at once.
Then, all of them reached out and began aggressively messing up Kise's hair.
"Hey! Hey! Careful! My hairstyle! Are you all jealous of my charm?!"
No one told Kise Ryouta the truth—that his teammates were absolutely jealous.
Jealous of his perfect hair, his handsome face, and the endless stream of fangirls who appeared wherever he went.
So honestly, being around him… his hairstyle suffering was inevitable.
Under the "loving care" of his teammates, Kise's hair became a mess, but he only looked even more delighted as his golden eyes sparkled toward the court.
The arena was already clearing out. Both teams were stepping onto the court. The match was about to begin.
Even though none of the "Generation of Miracles" were playing, the presence of several Uncrowned Kings still made the game highly anticipated.
At Tōō Academy's bench, Satsuki Momoi stared at the court with a conflicted expression before turning to Aomine Daiki beside her.
"Dai-chan… do they have a chance?"
"Who knows?" Aomine replied lazily. "Aren't you the one with all their data? Can't you predict it?"
"…That's…"
As Tōō's analyst, Momoi rarely made direct evaluations of her own teammates.
But in this situation, she had no choice but to analyze.
"Momoi, go ahead and say it," said Coach Aida Kagetora from the bench. "I'd like to hear your conclusion too."
Even though he understood his players well—but he still wanted another perspective.
Momoi lowered her gaze in thought for a moment before speaking in a tone that was hard to read.
"The most likely to succeed… are probably Imayoshi-senpai and Sakurai-kun. The rest have a large gap in both talent and ability."
"…I see."
"Oh? Interesting."
Coach Aida remained expressionless, while Aomine's eyes lit up with interest.
WHISTLE!
The whistle echoed through the arena, instantly silencing the buzzing gym.
Tōō's No.6, Wakamatsu Kousuke, and Rakuzan's No.8, Nebuya Eikichi, jumped for the tip-off.
Both leapt into the air—but the ball was secured by Nebuya.
Nebuya immediately passed it out to Mibuchi Reo.
At that moment, Mibuchi wasn't just acting as a shooting guard—he was functioning as a point guard as well.
With that decision, Rakuzan's coach Eiji Shirogane and captain Akashi Seijuro had effectively entrusted him with full court control.
Such a system blurred the line between point guard and shooting guard, requiring extreme versatility.
And within Rakuzan, only Mibuchi—and the absent Akashi—were capable of such control.
Mibuchi dribbled to the three-point line, rose into a smooth backward fadeaway, and released the shot.
SWISH!
The ball spun cleanly through the net.
The sound of the net snapping back was strangely mesmerizing.
Mibuchi said nothing. He simply turned and returned to defense, leaving behind Sakurai Ryo—who stood frozen, eyes wide in shock.
Sakurai had just experienced it for the first time.
A three-pointer so beautiful in form, so precise in execution, and so consistent in accuracy that it felt unreal.
His eyes were filled with disbelief—and something he couldn't quite describe.
A large hand suddenly landed on his shoulder, snapping him back to reality.
"Don't lose to him."
With that single line, the player turned away to receive the inbound pass.
Sakurai snapped back to focus, watching Imayoshi Shoichi bring the ball upcourt. His gaze sharpened.
"I've got to do better."
He immediately sprinted forward to follow.
Imayoshi crossed half court, facing Hayama Kotaro's defense. His eyes narrowed into thin slits, his glasses catching the light.
Seeing no opening, he turned and passed the ball to Sakurai beyond the three-point line.
Sakurai caught it and shot immediately.
No hesitation. No adjustment. Just a quick release.
Even Mibuchi, who was guarding him, froze for a brief moment.
SWISH!
Another mesmerizing three-pointer.
The game had just begun, but both sides were already exchanging blows at full force—completely even.
In the stands, Seirin's Hyuga Junpei watched those shots intently, his eyes filled with admiration.
Whether it was Mibuchi's elegant backward fadeaway or Sakurai's lightning-fast release, both were deadly scoring weapons.
Kuroko Tetsuya also observed silently.
Kagami Taiga frowned deeply after seeing Mibuchi's fadeaway. That level… even in America, it's rare.
Seirin's bench players could only watch in awe.
On the court, Rakuzan regained possession. Mibuchi brought the ball up again, but seeing Sakurai's defensive readiness, he quickly passed it out.
The ball went to Hayama Kotaro.
Hayama stared down Imayoshi. Three fingers extended. His dribble exploded like thunder.
But Imayoshi remained calm, eyes narrowed, staying tightly glued to him.
Hayama failed to break through.
"Tch!
With a frustrated sound, Hayama passed the ball into the paint.
Nebuya received it and forcefully powered through Wakamatsu Kousuke, slamming the ball into the hoop.
Wakamatsu landed, stunned as he turned to look at Nebuya's retreating back. A sense of helplessness crept in.
Even though Wakamatsu was taller, Nebuya completely overpowered him in strength. Blocks and resistance meant nothing.
"That's one of the Uncrowned Kings for you… he's tough."
"No kidding… he's really strong."
"But compared to the Generation of Miracles… he's still not enough."
"Still, I won't let them run wild."
Tōō's players began to realize something. Their man-to-man defense wasn't as effective as they believed.
Because every single opponent in front of them was on their level—or even stronger.
And that realization turned every Tōō player into a potential weak point.