Ryonan's bench.
Coach Taoka Shigeichi looked like he'd just seen a ghost—his eyes practically popping out of their sockets.
"Impossible!"
"He's only been playing for three months…!"
Shohoku's bench.
Makino Juro watched the figure on the court basking in his own glory and let out a soft whistle.
A satisfied smile tugged at his lips.
"Looks like… the 'Instant Transmission' training actually worked."
"The moves are still a bit rough, but with that kid's physical gifts—once he gets the rhythm down, this kind of drive is basically unstoppable."
In Juro's eyes, Sakuragi Hanamichi's physical talent was no worse than Kagami Taiga's.
What he lacked—he'd fill in, bit by bit.
On the court.
After landing, Sakuragi didn't celebrate right away.
He turned around and looked at Fukuda Kicchou, who was still frozen in place, questioning his life choices.
Sakuragi hooked a thumb toward himself, chin raised high, nostrils practically pointing at the sky.
"Well? What do you think, Fuku?"
"You can't guard a genius like me."
He grinned, flashing a row of white teeth, eyes gleaming with mischief.
"That's because… I've mastered my master's secret technique—Instant Transmission!"
"You think a mere mortal like you can see through it?"
"Instant… Transmission?"
Fukuda muttered under his breath, clearly shaken by the ridiculously over-the-top name.
Only then did the cheers from the stands finally catch up.
"He scored! Shohoku's on the board!"
"And their first points actually came from Sakuragi!"
"This kid's got something! I'm starting to like him!"
Hearing the chatter, Sakuragi's inner self was practically rolling on the grass in celebration.
He glanced at the bright red "2" on the scoreboard, secretly thrilled.
"Wahahaha! Hear that?!"
"All of Shohoku's points came from me!"
"Sure, I gave away two points with that goaltending—but now I scored two!"
"Two minus two equals zero… and if you round it up, that means I alone control the flow of the entire game!"
"I am the ruler of this court!"
That bizarre arithmetic instantly inflated his ego to the max.
Under the basket, Uozumi Jun was still standing there, staring at the ball as it rolled away.
For a moment, he questioned his own reality.
He'd been ready to rotate for help defense just now—
But Sakuragi had blown past so fast, all he could do was watch.
"That beginner… how did he improve this much in such a short time?"
The image of Sakuragi's clumsy play during the practice match still lingered in his mind.
He couldn't reconcile it with the lightning-fast player in front of him.
Just as Uozumi was lost in thought—
A chill crept up his back.
Along with a very punchable presence.
"Hey, monkey boss."
Uozumi jerked in surprise and turned around.
Sakuragi Hanamichi had somehow appeared behind him like a ghost.
Hands clasped behind his back, wearing a smug grin.
His face was way too close.
Three parts teasing, seven parts provocation, and ninety parts asking for a beating.
"What's wrong? Getting nervous?"
Sakuragi lowered his voice, pretending to be profound.
"Feeling like my strength is beyond your comprehension?"
"Like your worldview is collapsing?"
Uozumi's mouth twitched. He was just about to snap back—
But Sakuragi raised a finger and waved it in front of him.
With an expression that said, I understand, no need to explain.
"With your level of common sense, it's better not to overthink a genius like me."
"Otherwise…"
He tapped his own head meaningfully.
"Your brain might overheat, monkey boss."
Uozumi: "…"
At that moment, Uozumi Jun felt an overwhelming urge—
To slam this red-haired idiot into the floor a hundred times.
This guy…
Really was still the same infuriating bastard as ever!
"Cut the crap!"
Uozumi took a deep breath, forcefully suppressing his rising blood pressure.
He picked up the ball and slammed it toward his teammate on the baseline—as if it were Sakuragi's head.
"Offense!"
"Hit them hard! Crush them!"
Watching Uozumi lose his cool, Sakuragi turned around in satisfaction and flashed a "V" sign toward Makino Juro.
On the sidelines, Makino Juro rubbed his forehead helplessly.
"This guy… he's maxed out his taunt skill tree."
"A natural aggro magnet."
"But now that he's pissed off the monkey boss… the battle in the paint is going to hurt."
In the stands, the entire Kainan squad wore complicated expressions.
Jin Soichiro, usually smiling, had narrowed his eyes into a thin line.
Staring at the red-haired figure on the court, his tone turned serious:
"Senpai Maki… if Shohoku actually wins…"
"With Sakuragi Hanamichi's 'rocket-speed' growth… he'll be a huge problem in the finals."
Maki Shinichi crossed his arms, fingers lightly tapping his biceps, saying nothing.
But his gaze had turned frighteningly heavy.
That crossover just now, though still raw… had real substance.
"Tch! Don't hype him up!"
A "wild monkey" practically leapt onto the seat.
Kiyota Nobunaga pointed at the court, visibly on the verge of overheating.
"That red-haired monkey just got lucky! It was a fluke!"
"And he dares act tough in front of me? Unforgivable! Absolutely unforgivable!"
He ground his teeth.
"If I were out there, I'd have dunked on his head a hundred times already!"
Maki glanced at his team's emotionally fragile first-year ace and sighed.
This kid clearly just didn't have enough homework.
On the other side of the stands, the Miuradai players collectively shuddered.
Their captain, Murasame, subconsciously rubbed his head—the phantom pain from being knocked out by a basketball last time still lingering.
Looking at Sakuragi's current moves, he swallowed hard.
"This guy… did he turn on cheats or something?"
"Last time he only knew how to foul—now he's crossing people up?"
Back on the court, the game continued.
Ryonan offense.
Koshino Hiroaki patted Fukuda on the back and spoke in a low voice:
"Fuku, don't lose your head."
"He's just a hot-headed rookie. Break his ankles next time."
Fukuda didn't respond.
His narrow eyes locked onto Sakuragi, fists clenched white.
Being toyed with by a beginner?
That stung worse than death.
But Sakuragi wasn't even looking at him.
The red-haired boy's gaze went right past Fukuda—
And locked onto that lazy-looking mop-head on the wing: Sendoh Akira.
Chin raised, eyes full of challenge:
See that? You're next.
"Heh… interesting guy."
A playful curve lifted at the corner of Sendoh's lips.
"Defense! Lock it down!"
"Ryota! Stick to number 6! Steal that ball!"
On Shohoku's bench, Ayako's paper fan was practically a blur.
Ryonan inbounded.
Uekusa Tomoyuki advanced steadily, then lofted a high pass straight into the paint.
"Captain!"
Uozumi Jun had already sealed his position in the low post.
His towering frame—over two meters tall—was like a moving mountain, pinning Takenori Akagi firmly behind him.
"Akagi!"
"This one…"
"I'm taking it for sure!"
END OF CHAPTER
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