On the court.
Akashi received the pass cleanly.
He didn't rush.
Instead of pushing a fast break, he slowed the tempo, guiding the ball forward at a steady pace as he crossed into the White Team's half.
Thump… thump… thump…
The echo of the basketball striking the floor resonated throughout the gym.
Every member of the White Team focused their attention on him.
Seeing Akashi advancing unhurriedly, Ito Hiroki stepped forward decisively, moving to cut him off at mid-court.
Akashi noticed—but his expression didn't change.
His gaze remained forward.
Yet suddenly, the rhythm of his hands shifted.
Swish—
The basketball's trajectory changed abruptly, shooting off at an angle.
Ito Hiroki's pupils constricted.
Only then did he realize—
Too fast!
There had been no obvious wind-up, no preparatory motion.
He passed… before I even closed the distance?!
On the wing.
The substitute small forward hadn't even realized what had happened.
He was still moving according to instinct when the ball suddenly appeared right in front of him.
Reflexively, he raised both hands and caught it.
"…Huh?"
Confusion flickered across his face.
But he reacted quickly, dribbling forward toward the White Team's basket.
Unfortunately—
That brief hesitation was enough.
Slap!
A sharp sound rang out.
Sendoh Akira had already closed the gap, cleanly stealing the ball from behind.
The substitute small forward's heart sank.
By the time he tried to recover, Sendoh had already pulled away by several body lengths.
Unopposed, Sendoh surged forward and finished smoothly at the rim.
Swish.
White Team — 4
Red Team — 0
"…Sorry," the substitute small forward said quietly to Akashi, guilt written all over his face.
Akashi smiled faintly.
"It's fine. The game's just started. Just be ready for the next pass."
"…Got it."
Play resumed.
Red Team ball.
Once again, Akashi brought the ball up the court.
Ito Hiroki moved to block him immediately.
This time, Akashi didn't pass.
He shifted directions fluidly, switching hands in rapid succession.
The basketball flowed around his body as if it were an extension of himself—smooth, controlled, and utterly natural.
Gasps rippled through the gym.
Not everyone could handle the ball like that.
Ito Hiroki's eyes struggled to keep up with the rhythm.
For a brief moment, he didn't know where to reach.
Then—
Akashi suddenly stepped hard toward Ito Hiroki's left.
Ito reacted instantly, sliding back and successfully cutting off the lane.
A confident smile tugged at his lips.
Got him.
But the next instant—
His expression froze.
Where… was the ball?
Akashi's hands were empty.
Thump—
A basketball struck the floor behind him.
Ito Hiroki's heart skipped.
He spun around.
The substitute shooting guard was already dribbling toward the arc, completely unguarded.
Without hesitation, he rose and released the shot.
Swish.
A clean three.
White Team — 4
Red Team — 3
On the sidelines, Coach Nakamura narrowed his eyes.
He had seen everything.
Akashi's passes weren't just fast—they were invisible.
No eye contact.
No telegraphed motion.
That meant only one thing—
Extraordinary court vision.
And his ball-handling…
Very few middle school players possessed that level of control.
A quiet thrill stirred in the coach's chest.
This year… we really did strike gold.
Last year, Sendoh Akira.
This year—Akashi Seijuro.
The White Team attacked again.
This time, Kirihara Hayato took the ball.
Though he lacked Sendoh's explosive flair, he was still far superior to the substitutes.
He broke through the defense and finished through contact in the paint.
White Team — 6
Red Team — 3
Red Team possession.
Akashi advanced once more.
Ito Hiroki stood in front of him again, jaw clenched.
Akashi didn't dazzle this time.
He lowered his center of gravity and drove forward—just like before.
Ito braced himself, guarding against the pass.
Then—
Akashi pivoted sharply.
Left to right.
The sudden change shattered Ito's balance.
By the time he recovered, Akashi was already two steps ahead.
Bad!
Ito turned and chased.
Akashi crossed the three-point line.
And then—
Someone stepped into his path.
Sendoh Akira.
Arms spread wide, smile easy but eyes sharp.
"Come on," Sendoh said lightly.
"Show me what you've got."
Akashi didn't slow.
He surged forward.
At the instant of contact, his wrist flicked—
The ball shot toward the wing.
Sendoh reacted instantly, reaching out to block the passing lane.
But—
Akashi's hand snapped back.
The ball was slapped downward instead.
Thump!
It rebounded off the floor—angling perfectly toward the opposite side.
The substitute small forward.
Sendoh's attention was still locked on Akashi.
The passing lane should've been sealed.
Yet—
Impossible.
Sendoh shifted his weight and moved to intercept again.
The ball was right there—
Slap.
Akashi caught it first.
Sendoh's pupils trembled.
He faked… me?
Before Sendoh could react again, Akashi rose smoothly.
His gaze met Sendoh's.
Then—
He shot.
The basketball sailed cleanly over Sendoh's head.
Swish.
Three points.
White Team — 6
Red Team — 6
The score was tied.