The sound of a basketball striking concrete echoed in a steady, rhythmic pattern through a quiet residential area of Tokyo.
It was the kind of neighborhood where time seemed to slow down in the late afternoon. Narrow streets stretched between rows of modest houses, power lines crisscrossed the sky, and the distant hum of traffic faded into background noise. Cicadas clung to trees and fences, their cries blending with the warm summer air.
Behind one such two-story house—shielded from the street by a tall wooden fence—lay a small private courtyard.
It wasn't anything special.
The space was only large enough to fit a half court. A single hoop was mounted firmly into the concrete wall, its backboard scratched and faded from years of use. The ground beneath it bore countless scuff marks, each one a silent record of footsteps, pivots, and stops. To one side, beneath the shade of a persimmon tree, rested an old wooden bench, its surface smoothed by time.
Yet within this unremarkable space, something extraordinary was taking place.
At the center of the court stood a boy who appeared to be around twelve years old.
His name was Tendou Souji.
The basketball moved as if it were part of his body.
It flowed from one hand to the other without the slightest hesitation—low dribbles that hugged the ground, sudden switches to higher bounces, crossovers executed at precise angles, behind-the-back transitions so clean they made no extra sound. Each motion was deliberate, measured, and refined.
His feet slid across the concrete with equal precision. He never crossed his stance incorrectly. Never overreached. Never wasted a single step. Every movement had purpose, as though his body already knew where it needed to be before his mind consciously decided.
There was no flashiness.
No exaggerated tricks meant to impress an imaginary audience.
Only perfection.
If a professional trainer—or even a retired pro—were watching from the sidelines, they wouldn't comment on his speed or strength.
They would simply fall silent.
Because these were not the movements of a gifted child playing on instinct.
They were fundamentals refined to an absurd degree. Basics stripped down, polished, and rebuilt again and again until nothing unnecessary remained. This was the kind of form only seen in elite professionals who had spent decades obsessing over efficiency.
Souji planted his left foot, rotated his hips smoothly, and leaned his shoulder forward, simulating pressure from an imaginary defender. In the same breath, he pulled back. His feet aligned naturally. His core tightened. His shooting form rose—fluid, compact, flawless.
Swish.
The ball passed cleanly through the net without touching the rim.
Souji exhaled softly as he caught the rebound, his expression calm. Sweat slid down the side of his face, darkening strands of his black hair. His breathing was steady—controlled, neither rushed nor strained.
He continued.
Dribble. Pivot. Shot.
Drive. Sudden stop. Pull-up.
Spin move. Fade.
Minutes passed, then more.
The rhythm never broke.
Only after another ten minutes did Souji finally slow to a stop. He walked toward the bench, sat down, and picked up a bottle of water. As he drank, his gaze drifted upward, past the tall fence, toward the pale blue slice of sky visible above the courtyard walls.
Tomorrow…
The thought surfaced naturally, a small smile forming at the corner of his lips.
Tomorrow, he would finally meet them.
The Generation of Miracles.
Just thinking about it sent a subtle thrill through his chest. They were players he had once watched endlessly in his previous life—monsters disguised as middle schoolers, geniuses who shattered common sense and rewrote what basketball was supposed to look like.
And now, he was about to step onto the same stage.
Not as a spectator.But as a player.
"Souji!"
The voice came from inside the house, sharp enough to cut through his thoughts.
"Can you come help me bring in the groceries?"
Souji blinked, then stood immediately. He placed the basketball carefully onto its rack, tightened the cap on his water bottle, and jogged toward the back door.
"Yes, Mama!"
Inside the house, the cool air carried the familiar smell of fresh vegetables, plastic packaging, and raw meat. Souji moved efficiently, lifting bags from the entryway and placing them neatly onto the kitchen counter while his mother sorted through them.
She glanced at him, her eyes gentle but observant.
"So," she said casually, "are you nervous about starting Teiko Middle School tomorrow?"
Souji shook his head lightly. "Not really. I've already prepared everything."
His uniform had been pressed and hung the night before. His school bag was packed and waiting by the door. He had memorized the route to school weeks ago.
More importantly—his mind was prepared.
"That's good," his mother replied with a small smile. "Still, don't stay up too late. First days matter. Try to arrive early and make a good impression."
"I know," Souji answered calmly. "I'll go to bed early."
Satisfied, she nodded and returned to preparing dinner.
To anyone else, it was a perfectly ordinary evening.
But for Souji, it felt like the calm before a storm.
—
Tendou Souji had been reincarnated into this world twelve years ago.
At least, that was the conclusion he had reached after years of quiet observation.
His earliest memories were fragmented—warmth, indistinct voices, unfamiliar faces hovering above him. For a long time, those memories felt distant, like dreams that faded upon waking.
Everything changed when he turned six.
That was when his previous life came rushing back.
Basketball courts under fluorescent lights.
The sound of sneakers squeaking on hardwood.
Late nights spent watching games, reading manga, and arguing endlessly online about players, tactics, and what it truly meant to be strong.
The shock had nearly overwhelmed him. Living with the mind of an adult inside a child's body was far from easy. His thoughts raced ahead of his emotions, and it took years before the two aligned properly.
For a long time, Souji believed this was simply another normal world.No magic.
No superpowers.
No systems.
Just another life.
hat illusion shattered one afternoon.
He had been walking with his family through a nearby shopping district when the sound of shouting and laughter caught his attention. Across the street stood a public basketball court—cracked concrete, rusted fencing, and a hoop that had clearly seen better days.
A group of players occupied the court. Most of them were adults.
Among them was a tanned boy bursting with wild energy, darting across the court with fearless drives and aggressive plays that far exceeded what someone his age should have been capable of.
Souji slowed his steps, his eyes narrowing.
Then he heard it.
"Do your best, Dai-chan!"
The voice was bright.
Cheerful.
And painfully familiar.
Souji turned his head.
On the sidelines stood a pink-haired girl, waving both arms enthusiastically, her confident smile unmistakable.
In that instant,
time seemed to stop
.…Aomine Daiki
.…Momoi Satsuki.
Souji's heart slammed violently against his chest.
No way.
The scattered pieces in his mind clicked together with terrifying clarity.
This wasn't just any world.
This was the world of Kuroko no Basket.
Before he could fully process the realization, a cold mechanical sound echoed inside his mind.
『Ding! Detecting core characters of the world.』
『Initializing system…』
『Binding host… 10%…』
Souji's steps faltered.
A system?
Excitement surged—only to be followed by disbelief.
So this was it.
The so-called privilege of reincarnation.
Before he could react further, reality intervened.
"Souji, keep up," his father called.
Reluctantly, he followed his family home, his thoughts racing the entire way.
That night, after dinner and a quick bath, Souji sat quietly on his bed.
Darkness filled the room, broken only by the faint glow of streetlights filtering through the curtains.
He waited.
『90%…』
『99%…』
『100%.』
『Initialization complete.』
A calm, neutral voice filled his consciousness.
『Greetings, Host. I am the Basketball Legend System. My purpose is to assist you in becoming a basketball legend in this world.』
Souji clenched his fist.So it's real.
'Hello', he replied mentally. 'What can you do?'
『Current available functions: Status, Training, Teammates, and Shop. Additional functions may unlock in the future.』
Souji paused.
"Basketball Legend System… that name's too long. Can I call you Chip?"
There was a brief silence.
『Name accepted.』
A small grin spread across Souji's face.
"Alright then, Chip,"
he thought.
"Do you have anything for beginners?"
『Ding! Congratulations, Host. You have received a Beginner Package.』
『Would you like to open it now?』
Souji leaned back against his bed, his heart beating steadily.Tonight was where everything truly began.
"Yes," he answered without hesitation."Open it."