A week later, at Akashi's residence.
Akashi sat at the dining table, eating breakfast with elegance and calm, every bite deliberate and unhurried.
A butler in a crisp uniform approached, bowing respectfully. "Young Master, the items you requested have been prepared. I have placed them in the car."
Akashi finished his last bite, wiping his mouth, then nodded. "Good. Thank you for your hard work."
The butler's voice trembled slightly. "It is always my duty, Young Master."
He thought silently: Young Master Akashi is always so polite…
Akashi rose and walked toward the door. At the gate, the car was already waiting. He opened the back door and stepped in.
"Where are we going, Young Master?" the driver asked respectfully.
Akashi glanced at the neatly packed items in the back seat. "To Ruri's place."
"Understood," the driver replied, starting the car smoothly.
Meanwhile, on a nearby street, two figures walked side by side—one tall, one shorter.
If Akashi had been present, he would have recognized them immediately: Shinichi Maki and Kiyota Nobunaga of Kainan.
Shinichi Maki's voice carried a faint tone of resignation. "Kiyota… why did you come along?"
Kiyota Nobunaga puffed up his chest, a mischievous smile on his face. "Because he is the next opponent who must be studied! I will not lose like last time!"
Shinichi Maki froze for a moment, recalling the crushing defeat to Ryonan: forty-eight points down, Akashi slicing through their defense relentlessly.
"Who… considers you an opponent?" he asked with a weary sigh.
Kiyota's grin faltered. C-could it be that I'm not qualified enough…?
Just then, a noisy group ahead caught their attention.
"Why are we here so early?"
"It's all Takamiya's fault; she insisted!"
"Seriously… it's a rare day off, I wanted to sleep longer!"
"Sakuragi, didn't you say you wouldn't oversleep anymore?"
"Sleeping in once in a while won't hurt."
Shinichi Maki and Kiyota Nobunaga approached the commotion and saw the source:
A red-haired teenager leading a small group, carefree and smiling.
The moment their eyes met, time seemed to pause.
"Monkey…" x2
Kiyota Nobunaga pointed at the redhead, shouting. The redhead pointed back, shouting as loudly.
Shinichi Maki muttered under his breath, "Shohoku's?"
Indeed, it was Shohoku—but not the basketball club. This was Sakuragi Hanamichi's gang.
Kiyota Nobunaga's eyes widened in disdain. "What are you doing here, orangutan?"
Sakuragi waved lazily. "It's a holiday! I'm here to earn some pocket money."
"You… idiot. High school students shouldn't even be playing pachinko," Kiyota snapped, pointing at the parlor behind them.
The rest of Sakuragi's gang recognized the Kainan duo.
Mito Yohei: "Wild monkey."
Okusu Yuji: "Kainan's wild monkey."
Takamiya Nozomi: "And the coach."
A large '#' symbol seemed to appear over Shinichi Maki's forehead.
Kiyota sneered. "I thought you Shohoku guys were training hard. You barely scraped into the National Tournament, yet here you are wasting time?"
Sakuragi crossed his arms, smirking. "Practice starts this afternoon. Right now, this genius is adjusting his condition. Unlike some people… who can't even face failure."
"You…" Kiyota's face darkened. "A loser dares to speak? Our Kainan qualified second in the Prefectural Tournament! If you want to survive the Nationals without shame, stop gambling and practice!"
Sakuragi's smile widened. "Oh? Didn't you lose to Ryonan… by forty-eight points?"
He leaned closer to Kiyota, eyebrow raised. "Upset that Shohoku also made it to the Nationals?"
Kiyota froze. "I… I'm not upset!" he stammered. "Our second-place finish is above you. No reason to envy you."
Sakuragi scoffed. "Second place, not first… what's there to be proud of?"
"You… you…" Kiyota trembled, pointing at him, unable to finish a sentence.
Sakuragi feigned innocence. "Why are you so worked up?"
"Damn it!" Kiyota roared. "A team like Shohoku doesn't even deserve the Nationals if they keep goofing off. Go back and practice, or Kanagawa will be humiliated!"
The two squared off, eyes locked, tension crackling in the air.
Shinichi Maki suddenly interjected. "Kiyota… you don't know about the Nationals either. We're going to miss the train."
Sakuragi turned. "Old man, where are you going?"
Shinichi Maki's gaze was calm. "Do you know the Star of Aichi?"
Sakuragi shook his head. "No idea."
Kiyota scoffed. "See?"
Shinichi Maki continued, "Want to come see him?"
Sakuragi froze. He played in the Nationals…?
Shinichi chuckled. "What do you think?"
His gang watched silently, awestruck.
Finally, Sakuragi nodded, deciding to follow Shinichi Maki to witness the "Star of Aichi."
The others looked on, emotions mixed.
Noma Chuichiro: "Sakuragi's all in for basketball now."
Okusu Yuji: "No matter what, he's a rising player here."
Takamiya Nozomi: "A complete amateur, and everyone's been fooled."
Mito Yohei: "Basketball… is really interesting…"
…The traffic light turned red, and vehicles slowed to a stop.
In the back seat of his private car, Akashi's fingertips rested lightly on the edge of the window. His eyes were fixed on the bustling crowd at the street corner.
Shinichi Maki's broad back, Kiyota Nobunaga's tousled hair, and Sakuragi Hanamichi's striking red locks all entered his field of vision.
He didn't step out of the car, merely observing as the three went from arguing to walking side by side, listening to fragments of their scattered conversation carried on the wind.
The words "Star of Aichi" reached his ears. Akashi's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Star of Aichi, huh," he murmured to himself.
In his previous life, while following Slam Dunk, Kanagawa's teams were the central focus; other regions' players, like the Star of Aichi, were barely mentioned—no detailed playstyles, no tactical tendencies.
Akashi's gaze followed the direction they had gone. He thought quickly. Ryonan had secured first place in Kanagawa, but complacency was a luxury they could not afford. Information on these external opponents was insufficient.
I'll need to investigate, he decided, already forming a plan.
Elsewhere, at the residence bearing the nameplate Anzai:
Rukawa Kaede sat across from Anzai Mitsuyoshi in the reception room. Morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting fragmented patterns across the tatami floor.
"Coach… I want to go to the United States," Rukawa said calmly but firmly. "The level there is higher. It will make me stronger."
Anzai Mitsuyoshi paused mid-sip, a shadow of complexity crossing his usually gentle features.
"No," he said, flat and resolute. "You are not ready yet."
Rukawa frowned, surprised and unconvinced. His strength, in his own eyes, was already sufficient.
Anzai set down his teacup and spoke carefully. "You have outstanding talent. Your ball-handling, your drives, your speed and explosiveness… all far surpass your peers. But your biggest flaw is that you focus too much on doing everything yourself."
He leaned forward slightly. "Basketball is not a one-man show. You can pass the ball, yes—but often only out of necessity, not to create opportunities. In the recent game against Ryonan, you could break through defenses alone, but you couldn't lift your teammates with a single pass like Sendoh does."
"Sendoh?" Rukawa echoed softly, narrowing his eyes.
"Exactly. Sendoh's style is mature. He balances individual offense with team play, stabilizes critical moments, and creates opportunities for his teammates. Your skill may rival his, but your control over the game, your ability to elevate the team, is still lacking."
Anzai's tone deepened. "You could also study Akashi's style."
Rukawa's pupils contracted slightly. That recent Ryonan game—Akashi's dominance, his precise court control, the aura that seemed to suppress the entire gym—it was still vivid in his mind.
"The gap between you and Akashi is greater than you imagine," Anzai continued. "I do not agree with his philosophy, but his individual skill, his absolute control of the court, his talent… is unparalleled."
Rukawa pressed his lips together, fingers tightening on his clothes. "Then why ask me to defeat Sendoh first? Why not Akashi?"
Anzai gazed out the window, silent for a long moment, then sighed softly. "Rukawa, you are not ready. Your level is far from Akashi's. To face him is beyond your current abilities."
He looked back at Rukawa, voice softer. "Sendoh Akira is the hurdle you should focus on. Beating him will teach you to lead, to balance individual talent with teamwork. Only then will you be qualified to challenge stronger opponents, or even consider going abroad."
Silence filled the room.
In front of the Kamishiro family's residence:
"Akashi-kun!" Kamishiro Ruri greeted him warmly, opening the back car door with ease.
Akashi's expression remained calm. He picked up a delicately wrapped package beside him. "This is for you."
"For me?" Ruri's eyes sparkled as she took the package, fingers trembling slightly. "A gift from you? Can I open it now?"
"Of course," Akashi replied, his faint smile gentle, almost human—contrasting sharply with the unyielding calm he displayed on the court.
Ruri tore the wrapping carefully. Inside lay a sleek pink camera with a portable stand—currently one of the most popular models for photography enthusiasts.
She lifted it in awe. "This is…"
Akashi's voice was soft, meticulous. "I noticed during games that you often juggle your notebook and camera, sometimes missing important moments. This will allow you to record matches entirely and capture every key moment without fumbling."
Ruri's heart warmed. He's been paying attention all this time…
A smile curved her lips, eyes gleaming. She held the camera gently, feeling a surge of gratitude and warmth that melted her from within.
She looked down at the camera in her hands, eyes sparkling with sweetness, the corners of her mouth curling higher and higher.
Those little details she hadn't even noticed—Akashi had quietly observed them, and even prepared a gift to solve them. The thoughtfulness behind it felt warmer than any flowery words could.
"Thank you, Akashi-kun. I really like it." Her gaze met his, shining like starlight.
Seeing her genuine joy, Akashi gave a small, approving nod, then smoothly changed the subject. "It's a holiday. Why are you still going to school?"
Ruri's face flushed slightly, snapping her out of her reverie. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I was going to pick up the camera I left at the newspaper club… but now that I have this one from you, Akashi-kun, I don't need to."
Suddenly, a triumphant realization lit her expression. "Akashi-kun hasn't researched the National Tournament opponents yet, has he?"
Akashi nodded matter-of-factly. "I've been occupied with Ryonan's post-Kanagawa adjustments. I haven't had time."
Ruri patted her chest, eyes gleaming with self-satisfaction. "Then leave that to me! I was planning to gather information on the teams today anyway."
Akashi raised a brow, slightly surprised, but quickly understood. With only Aida Hikoichi officially scouting, even his tireless efforts couldn't cover every team. Ruri's help would be invaluable.
"I see. Then I appreciate your efforts," he said, his tone carrying a subtle warmth.
"Don't be so formal with me!" Ruri waved her hand, adjusting her new camera's lens. By chance, it pointed at Akashi, capturing his serious profile in the viewfinder. "I'm happy to help! And…" Her voice softened again. "Recording games with the camera you gave me feels even more motivating!"
Sunlight streamed through the car window, bathing them both in warmth, and the atmosphere was serene and pleasant.
Meanwhile, on a street in Osaka:
Aida Hikoichi walked briskly, excitement and anticipation etched on his face. "Everyone's in the National Tournament! Now the priority is scouting potential opponents, starting with Toyotama High School."
He pulled a letter from his backpack and read aloud:
"Aida, I've joined Toyotama High School's basketball club. I'm a first-year regular. The National Tournament finals are here—please come watch!
—Okawa Teruo"
Aida frowned, suspicious. "This guy… shorter than me, used to call me 'Big Brother'… how is he a regular player now?"
Shrugging off his doubts, he decided, I'll know when I see him.
At the Osaka Prefecture preliminaries, a familiar voice called: "Hikoichi…"
A tall figure ran toward him, wearing a Toyotama uniform. The face was both familiar and foreign—childhood memories hinted at it, but the height difference was shocking.
"Hikoichi, you're finally here!" the figure exclaimed, stopping in front of him.
Aida stared, eyes widening. "You… you're Okawa Teruo?!"
His childhood friend had been short, unremarkable. Now, barely two years later, he towered at 181 cm, a clear leap beyond Aida's own growth.
Aida gestured at the height difference in disbelief. "How… how is this possible?"
Okawa puffed his chest proudly. "181 cm. Looking cooler than before, right?"
Aida's face twisted in playful grievance. I've barely grown, and he shot up like a rocket… how is this fair?!
Okawa laughed and quickly shifted the topic. "Your Ryonan team made it to the Nationals too, right? Kanagawa preliminaries were intense, I hear."
The mention of Ryonan instantly energized Aida. Pride flared, pushing aside his height-related grievance. "Of course! Ryonan finished first in Kanagawa! We even defeated Kainan, the team that dominated for sixteen years!"
A voice nearby interrupted, laced with disdain: "Ryonan? That's the one from Kanagawa?"
A boy with a braided curl, holding a dog-eared basketball magazine, stepped forward, scrutinizing them. He pointed to the cover: "Is this the Ryonan you mean?"
Aida looked. The title was bold: "The 'Genius' of Ryonan and the Newly Crowned 'Emperor'". Photos of Sendoh Akira leaping to shoot and Akashi slicing through defenses accompanied it—an in-depth report by Aida's sister, Aida Yayoi.
The braided boy's tone dripped with mockery. "Genius? You mean Sendoh? High praise for a high schooler. And this 'Emperor'? An unknown nobody? Just a lucky team reaching Nationals? The bar is getting lower if anyone can join now."
Aida's fists clenched, nails digging into his palms. Rage surged, yet he tried to steady his breath. "Who are you to mock them?!"
The braided boy froze at his boldness. Aida, face flushed with fury, pointed and shouted: "You're not even one ten-thousandth as good as Sendoh-senpai or my captain!"
With that, Aida didn't wait for a response. He bolted, his small frame moving like a high-powered motor, vanishing into the crowd.
Okawa Teruo remained stunned, looking from the disappearing Aida to the infuriated braided boy, unsure how to react.
The boy's knuckles were white, chest heaving violently, cursing the air. "That bastard… if I see him again, I'll make him pay."