"Professional tennis players?"
Daiki Aomine and Seijuro Akashi asked at the same time, both looking confused.
"That's right—professional tennis players,"
Kōzō Shirogane nodded and continued.
"To enter this state, a person must be completely focused, with no distractions and no stray thoughts."
"Once someone enters the No-Self State, their abilities increase dramatically. They can even replicate any technique or movement they've seen before."
"That strong?"
Daiki Aomine exclaimed in shock.
"Doesn't that mean Miyamoto Tokima is basically unbeatable right now?"
If the No-Self State was really this absurd, how was he ever supposed to beat Miyamoto Tokima in a one-on-one later?
Daiki Aomine's attention was fixed on just how powerful the No-Self State was.
Seijuro Akashi, however, was focused on something else entirely—the mention of professional tennis players.
"Coach, if you say you've only seen the No-Self State in professional tennis players,"
he said calmly,
"then that means no basketball player has ever entered it, correct?"
Kōzō Shirogane paused for a moment. He hadn't expected Akashi to catch onto that detail so quickly.
He nodded.
"That's right. I've never seen a basketball player enter the No-Self State."
"Why is that, Coach?"
Shintaro Midorima asked.
"Is the No-Self State very difficult to enter?"
If even the coach had never seen a basketball player reach it, that meant it was either incredibly difficult—or nearly impossible. Then how had Miyamoto Tokima managed it?
"For tennis players, it isn't that difficult,"
Kōzō Shirogane said slowly.
"But for basketball players, it's as hard as climbing to the heavens."
"Why is that?"
Shuzo Nijimura joined the discussion.
"As I said earlier, the No-Self State requires absolute focus—no distractions, no interference from the outside world,"
Kōzō Shirogane explained patiently.
"In tennis, players only need to concentrate on the ball their opponent hits. Because of that, it's relatively easy for them to enter a state of total focus."
"But basketball is different,"
he continued.
"Players have to pay attention to their teammates' positions and movements."
"They also have to observe their opponents, predict their paths, and anticipate their next actions."
"In those conditions, achieving complete mental clarity and freedom from distraction is extremely difficult."
"Then Coach,"
Daiki Aomine said, voicing his thoughts,
"in a one-on-one match, there are no teammates. Wouldn't it be much easier to enter the No-Self State?"
After all, Miyamoto Tokima had entered it during a one-on-one.
"In theory, yes,"
Kōzō Shirogane replied.
"But I've never seen it happen before. Today is the first time I've ever seen a basketball player enter the No-Self State—and he's only a middle schooler."
There was clear admiration in his voice.
"Coach, can we enter the No-Self State too?"
Seijuro Akashi asked.
For someone who had always been first at everything since childhood, being suppressed in basketball—his strongest field—was deeply unsettling.
If Miyamoto Tokima could do it, Akashi refused to fall behind.
"Yeah, Coach,"
Daiki Aomine added.
"How do we enter the No-Self State?"
If he couldn't reach that state, how was he supposed to challenge top players in the future? How was he supposed to face Miyamoto Tokima?
"Hahaha,"
Kōzō Shirogane laughed.
"Why are you all so fixated on the No-Self State? Almost no basketball players would choose to enter it."
His words instantly confused everyone.
"What do you mean, Coach?"
Shuzo Nijimura asked first.
"Didn't you say the No-Self State was extremely powerful? Why wouldn't basketball players choose it?"
Just moments ago, it had sounded incredible. Now the coach was saying almost no one would use it. It felt contradictory.
Shuzo Nijimura couldn't figure it out—and neither could Akashi or the others.
"Alright, I'll explain,"
Kōzō Shirogane said with a chuckle.
"There are two reasons. The first is what I already mentioned—the No-Self State is extremely difficult for basketball players to enter."
"The second reason,"
he continued,
"is that basketball players have their own explosive state. That state is called the zone."
"The zone?"
The group echoed in unison.
Shintaro Midorima was the first to ask,
"Coach, what is the zone?"
"You don't need to know too much right now,"
Kōzō Shirogane replied.
"I'll just explain two key points."
"Under normal circumstances, it's impossible for athletes to perform at 100% of their ability. Even the most focused elite players usually max out at around 80%."
"But the zone turns that impossible 100% into reality. Once someone enters the zone, their abilities increase severalfold."
"The boost provided by the zone is far beyond what the No-Self State can compare to."
When he finished explaining, everyone fell silent in shock.
They never expected the No-Self State—which had sounded so terrifyingly strong—to be inferior to the zone.
"Coach! How do I enter the zone?"
Daiki Aomine asked excitedly.
With power like that, of course he wanted it.
"Less than one percent of people can enter the zone,"
Kōzō Shirogane said seriously.
"It's extremely rare."
"But don't lose heart. With your talent, as long as you keep training, all of you will be able to enter the zone in the near future."
That single dose of encouragement instantly reignited everyone's motivation.
One after another, they declared that they would stay after training to practice even more.
Kōzō Shirogane watched the scene with satisfaction. Looking at Daiki Aomine and the others, he could already picture their future.
He nodded quietly, making a promise to himself.
He would pave the path for these geniuses and contribute, even if only a little, to their future professional careers.
...
"Huff… huff… huff!"
"How is this possible?! How can you be this strong?!"
Shogo Haizaki gasped for air, his entire body aching as if his bones were about to fall apart.
"Wow, the score's already zero to four. That white-haired guy looks miserable—just watching hurts."
"No kidding. He brought it on himself with those dirty moves."
"You have to admit it—Miyamoto Tokima is insane. He scored four points using nothing but his body."
"Yeah, that was terrifying."
While Daiki Aomine and the others were talking, Miyamoto Tokima had already scored four straight points.
After being struck by Shogo Haizaki's malicious elbow, he looked calm on the surface—but a spark of anger burned inside him.
He stood up, determined to teach Haizaki a lesson.
On defense, he focused completely and stole the ball cleanly.
When it was his turn to attack, he no longer relied on speed or flashy techniques.
Instead, he used his body, driving inward little by little, forcefully carving his way toward the paint.
Shogo Haizaki, fueled by anger—and unfamiliar with facing someone who relentlessly bullied his way inside—could only grit his teeth.
The junior high league had no five-second back-to-the-basket rule.
Miyamoto Tokima exploited that fact and delivered a ruthless lesson, punishing Shogo Haizaki again and again with his back-to-the-basket offense.