The second quarter began, and the atmosphere in the gym had shifted from a competitive sports match to something closer to a natural disaster.
Teiko North tried to adjust. They doubled Akami. They tried to "front" him, putting a second defender in his lap to deny the pass. Murai was sweating buckets, his jersey soaked, his chest heaving as he leaned every ounce of his 6'9" frame into Akami's back.
Akami just stood there, his black silk durag perfectly still. He looked like he was waiting for a slow elevator.
"You're... not... moving!" Murai wheezed, his face pressed against Akami's shoulder blade.
"Friction," Akami rumbled, his voice a low, sleepy vibration. "It generates heat. You're making me uncomfortably warm, Skyscraper. It's a breach of my personal climate policy."
Suddenly, Hyuga lopped a high entry pass toward the rim. It was a "bad" pass—too high, even for a 6'4" jump. Murai saw his chance. He gathered all his remaining strength and exploded upward, his long fingers reaching for the steal.
"GOT IT!" Murai yelled.
He didn't have it.
Akami didn't jump high; he jumped hard. It was a "Power Launch." The floorboards actually groaned as Akami left the hardwood. He didn't just meet Murai in the air; he occupied the same physical coordinates. Their bodies collided with a sound like two semi-trucks hitting head-on.
BOOM.
Murai was erased. He was sent spiraling out of bounds, landing in a heap of coolers and spare towels. Akami snatched the ball, landed, and in one fluid, lazy motion, he performed a "No-Look Behind-the-Back" pass to Teru, who was cutting to the basket.
LAYUP. Kaminari 28, Teiko North 12.
The Mercy Rule
By the middle of the third quarter, the "Efficiency" play had completely dismantled Teiko North's spirit. Akami had stopped even pretending to run. He had settled into a spot exactly four feet from the basket and stayed there.
He was a black hole. Anything that came within his reach—rebounds, passes, opposing players—was simply absorbed.
"Coach," Murai whispered on the sideline during a timeout, his voice trembling. "He... he isn't playing basketball. He's just existing at me. I can't move him. I can't jump over him. Every time I hit him, it feels like I'm running into a mountain made of silk and oak."
Coach Ryoko looked at the scoreboard.
Then she looked at Akami.
Akami was currently sitting on the floor—not the bench, the floor—with his back against the padded wall. Mio was fanning him with a clipboard.
"Akami," Ryoko said, walking over. "You've got 32 points. We're up by twenty. Do you want to sit out the fourth?"
Akami's amber eyes flickered open. He looked at the clock. 6:42 PM.
"The Yakiniku place," Akami rumbled, his voice sounding genuinely concerned. "They stop taking 'Early Bird' specials at 7:15. If we stay for the fourth quarter, we'll miss the complimentary dessert tray."
He stood up, his massive frame towering over the coach. He adjusted his durag, tightening the knot until the capes rested perfectly against his neck.
"Teru-kun," Akami called out.
Teru, who was currently doing victory laps in his head, jogged over. "Yeah, Durag-kun?"
"Finish them," Akami said, his voice dropping into a cold, predatory register. "I'm going to the locker room to start my post-game hydration. If the lead drops below fifteen, I'm taking your portion of the premium tongue."
Teru turned pale. "You... you wouldn't."
Akami just stared at him, his amber eyes reflecting the gym lights like a wolf's. He didn't say a word. He just turned and walked toward the locker room, his heavy footsteps echoing in the silent gym.
The Aftermath
The final buzzer sounded: Kaminari 72, Teiko North 54.
The "Monster of Kaminari" was already showered and dressed by the time the team reached the locker room. He was wearing his school slacks and a fresh black durag, his "Food Map" spread out on the bench.
"We won!" Teru screamed, bursting through the doors. "We actually beat the #1 seed! Akami, you—"
He stopped. Akami was staring at a flyer for a "Grand Opening" of a dessert shop across town.
"Mio-san," Akami said, ignoring the cheering team. "The flyer says 'Buy One, Get One.' If we sprint to the bus, we can make it by 7:45.
It's a 100% ROI on our travel time."
Mio laughed, her ponytail bouncing as she shook her head. "You're unbelievable, Akami-kun. You just had the most dominant debut in the history of the prefecture, and all you can think about is a 2-for-1 creampuff?"
Akami stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He looked at the team, his eyes going back to their usual sleepy, half-lidded state.
"Basketball is just a way to burn calories," Akami rumbled, walking toward the door. "But Yakiniku... Yakiniku is why we live. Move it, starters. The premium tongue doesn't wait for champions."
As he walked past Hyuga, the captain reached out and patted his shoulder. "Good game, Akami."
Akami didn't respond with words. He just gave a single, slow nod, his crimson hair peeking out from the edges of his silk.
Outside, the sun was setting, casting a long, heavy shadow behind the 6'4" freshman. The "Monster of Kaminari" was hungry.
And the district was officially on the menu.
...
To Be Continued.