"Tweet!"
The whistle tore through the air as the orange basketball was hurled toward the spotlight-lit ceiling.
The floor trembled violently!
Akagi Takenori and Uozumi Jun—two mountains of muscle—launched into the air at the same time, clashing midair like colliding beasts.
This time, perhaps with his "revenge buff" fully stacked…
Uozumi was half a beat faster. His fingertips struck the ball cleanly, tipping it away.
"Nice!"
Ryonan's bench instantly erupted.
Possession changed hands—the ball flew toward the wing.
Standing there was Sendoh Akira, wearing that ever-present, harmless-looking smile.
The moment the ball touched his hand—before it even hit the floor—
A black shadow, brimming with killing intent, lunged from behind him!
Rukawa Kaede!
Right from the opening tip, he showed zero restraint—no probing, no testing. He came in like he wanted to devour his opponent alive.
"A sneak attack?"
Up in the stands, Maki Shinichi raised an eyebrow.
But Sendoh was like he had full-map vision.
At the exact instant Rukawa's fingertips were about to touch the ball, Sendoh didn't dodge—instead, he rose with the motion.
One hand gripping the ball high, his body stretched like a fully drawn bow in midair.
"What?!"
"Is he shooting already? From the logo?!"
Before the crowd's gasp could fully escape—
Sendoh's wrist flicked.
A deceptive motion.
Not a shot.
The ball shot forward like it had GPS, a straight-line pass slicing deep into the paint.
There...
A messy-haired figure cut in like a ghost.
Fukuda Kicchou!
Catch. Turn.
Smooth as butter.
Mitsui Hisashi rushed in to help defend, but Fukuda feinted with his shoulder—
A clean spin move blew past him completely, leaving nothing but a wide-open rim ahead.
"It's in!"
Coach Taoka Moichi pumped his fist on the sidelines—this was the perfect opening he had dreamed of!
Fukuda leapt, gently flicking his wrist.
The ball traced a graceful arc, about to drop cleanly through the net—
And then...
"RAAAAHHHH!!!"
A thunderous yell exploded like a bomb, rattling everyone's eardrums.
A red figure ignored gravity itself, charging in from the side at an impossible angle.
The jump height was absurd—
His head was level with the rim!
Sakuragi Hanamichi!
Eyes wide like bronze bells, his right arm swung with full force—not a block, but a volleyball spike.
"Get down for the genius!!!"
"BAM!!!"
A deafening crack echoed across the arena.
The ball—already descending, just about to fall into the hoop—
Was violently swatted away by that completely unreasonable slap.
Silence.
One second.
Two seconds.
Everyone stood frozen, mouths agape, staring at the red-haired boy who had reached rim level—and now landed in a superhero pose.
That vertical…
Even Newton's coffin lid couldn't stay shut anymore.
Even the seasoned players from Kainan lost control of their expressions.
"Th-That… is that even humanly possible?"
"Tweet!"
The referee's urgent whistle broke the awkward silence.
The head referee wiped the sweat from his forehead, then firmly pointed to the scorer's table and the center circle.
"Red #10—goaltending!"
"Basket counts! Ryonan leads 2–0!"
Sakuragi, who had been standing there with his hands on his hips, waiting to be worshipped, instantly froze into stone.
"What?!"
He leapt in front of the referee, spittle flying, finger nearly poking into the man's nostril:
"Hey, old man! Are you blind?!"
"That was the genius's ultimate block!"
"Fly swatter, get it? Smack! Sent flying!"
"How can that count as their points?! You should be awarding me the win!"
The referee looked at the ferocious redhead in front of him, his mind spinning.
He'd been officiating high school basketball for over a decade.
He'd seen fouls. He'd seen fights.
But this...
An NBA-level goaltending caused by jumping too high and swatting a descending ball?
This was his first time seeing it in his life.
"It's the rule!"
"You can't touch the ball on its downward trajectory!" the referee explained stiffly.
"What kind of garbage rule is that?! I—"
Before Sakuragi could continue, a hand grabbed his ear.
"Ow ow ow! Let go!"
Miyagi Ryota, face dark, dragged him back while growling under his breath:
"Idiot! Stop embarrassing us!"
"That's goaltending!"
"You basically scored for them, you pig teammate!"
"But Ryota—"
"Shut up! Get back on defense!"
On the bench.
Makino Juro, wrapped in his jacket, chewing gum, watched the whole scene unfold.
He couldn't help it—
"Pfft—HAHAHAHA!"
A pig-like snort of laughter burst out.
"As expected of Sakuragi… if it's chaos, you're the king."
Switching to an even lazier lounging position, Juro's eyes gleamed with amusement.
"Starting the game by gifting them points… very fitting for a protagonist's 'fall first, rise later' script."
"But…"
He glanced at the scoreboard, a faint smile curling at his lips.
"That slap may have given them points… but that inhuman vertical probably scared the hell out of that old man Taoka."
And indeed.
At Ryonan's bench.
Despite the 2–0 score, Coach Taoka showed no joy.
Instead, his expression was like he had just swallowed a fly.
He stared at Sakuragi's back, swallowing hard.
"That jump… and that hang time…"
"This guy's physical ability… he's a monster wearing human skin."
But soon, he took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. His gaze shifted to Fukuda.
"Still… basketball isn't a high jump contest."
"Sakuragi Hanamichi… I've already seen through your weakness."
On the court—Shohoku offense.
Miyagi Ryota pushed the ball up at lightning speed, like a red bolt tearing through Ryonan's defense.
Uekusa clung to him desperately, not daring to give him any room to accelerate.
Inside.
Sakuragi, still fuming, fought for position.
Turning his head, he noticed—
His defender was that gloomy-eyed guy.
"Hey!"
Sakuragi perked up immediately, forgetting his earlier blunder.
He looked at Fukuda with disdain.
"What, is Ryonan out of people?"
"You send a nobody like you to guard the genius?"
Fukuda Kicchou didn't respond.
He simply lowered his stance slightly, those narrow eyes filled with an unsettling coldness.
"Tch, acting cool, huh?"
Sakuragi curled his lip.
He pointed a thumb at himself, then toward Ryonan's half, activating full-on trash talk mode:
"Here's some advice."
"You'd better go call that broom-head Sendoh—or that monkey boss."
"Someone at your level can't possibly sto—"
Right as Sakuragi was going off, fully invested in his trash talk—
Out on the perimeter, Mitsui Hisashi faked, created space, and flicked his wrist.
"Sakuragi! Catch!"
The ball shot into the paint like a scalpel.
A perfect pass.
If Sakuragi caught it, it would be an uncontested dunk.
However.
At that very moment..
Sakuragi was completely focused on talking trash, utterly unaware of the incoming ball.
"The genius is going to conquer the natio—"
THUD!
A dull impact.
The basketball struck him square in the face.
Critical hit.
Headshot.
His arrogant expression warped instantly.
The ball bounced off and rolled to Fukuda's feet.
Fukuda paused.
He bent down, picked up the ball, glanced at Sakuragi rolling on the floor clutching his face…
Then looked at the ball in his hand.
For the first time ever—
That perpetually gloomy face showed a different expression.
"…."
The expression of someone looking at an idiot.
He tossed the ball to a teammate and jogged back, his entire back radiating speechless disbelief.
The arena fell into a strange silence.
Then.
Laughter exploded.
"HAHAHAHA! Is that redhead here for comedy?!"
"Using your face to catch the ball? Is that a new strategy?"
"Shohoku's secret weapon is amazing—making the opponent laugh to death! My stomach hurts!"
In the stands.
Maki Shinichi rubbed his temples and turned to Jin Soichiro, doubt in his tone:
"This is… that 'promising' inside player?"
Fujima Kenji, meanwhile, pressed his lips tight, his shoulders shaking violently—
Clearly struggling to hold back laughter to maintain his cool image.
Only Makino Juro.
Sat on the bench, covering his face with one hand in pain, unable to watch.
Inside, he wailed:
My 20,000 yen Jordans…
Putting them on that idiot is an insult to His Airness…
This isn't basketball—this is a comedy skit!
But through the gaps between his fingers, he watched Sakuragi—now climbing to his feet, face red, yelling at Mitsui, "Why did you throw the ball at my face?!"
A faint smile crept onto Makino Juro's lips.
A hint of anticipation.
"Go on, laugh. Laugh all you want."
"When this guy starts dominating the boards later…"
"I hope you can still laugh then."