Kanagawa Prefectural Gymnasium.
Before even stepping inside, the roar hit like a physical blow to the chest.
Thousands of voices screaming at once—so loud the glass panels of the arena vibrated at a high frequency.
The air itself was thick with hormones.
This wasn't a game.
This was a battlefield.
"Th-There are way too many people…"
Photographer Nakamura struggled like a sardine crammed in a tin, clutching his camera for dear life. His glasses were completely fogged over.
He felt less like he was here to work—and more like he was here to survive a trial by fire.
"Aida-san, this is crazier than a pro league crowd!"
Nakamura wiped his lenses, looking like he might cry.
Aida Yayoi walked ahead, her heels clicking sharply against the floor.
She had deliberately chosen a more imposing professional outfit today. Her fingers gripped her notebook tightly, knuckles faintly pale.
Hearing Nakamura complain, she stopped.
She glanced back at him, her expression carrying a hint of "you're hopeless" resignation.
"Nakamura, did you even do your homework?"
She lifted her chin, signaling for him to look around.
The fans in the stands—every single one of them looked fanatical, like they could devour someone whole.
"They're not just here to watch a game," she said slowly. "They're here on a pilgrimage."
"A pilgrimage?" Nakamura blinked, dumbfounded. "Like… worshiping a god?"
Aida Yayoi sighed and pointed toward the highest point of the stands.
Under the spotlight, a massive purple banner hung down, swaying gently in the air from the vents.
On it, two golden characters stood bold and absolute:
Unbeaten.
Below it, in smaller text: Kainan University Affiliated High School Basketball Team.
"Sixteen years," Aida said quietly, her tone tinged with awe.
"That banner has flown over Kanagawa for sixteen straight years—never falling."
"Sixteen consecutive appearances at the national tournament. Here in Kanagawa… they are the sky itself. An insurmountable wall."
"That's why people call them… the Kings of Kainan."
Nakamura's jaw dropped wide enough to fit a lightbulb.
"Th-They've been champions since that long ago?!"
Just hearing it was suffocating.
"Originally, this year's script should've been the same," Aida continued, her gaze shifting toward another tunnel.
"Kainan defends the throne. Shoyo challenges."
"But this year… someone tore up the script."
In her mind, she saw that perpetually sleepy-looking boy again.
"Shoyo was eliminated. Ryonan lost too."
"Shohoku—the dark horse—is charging upward over the bones of the old era."
Nakamura swallowed hard.
"Then… can Shohoku win?"
"They look really fired up…"
Aida didn't answer immediately.
"…I can't tell."
She shook her head, her tone heavy.
"That first-year, Makino Juro… he's like a bottomless abyss."
"Every time you think you've seen his limit, he pulls out something new."
"This match… might be like Mars colliding with Earth."
Kainan Locker Room
The air conditioning was strong.
There was no smell of sweat—only a sharp, oppressive tension.
Click.
Coach Takato Riki entered, folding fan in hand.
Silence filled the room.
These players were already used to the calm before the storm.
"To be honest," Takato said, snapping his fan shut.
"Today's opponent isn't Shoyo. Nor is it Ryonan."
"It's Shohoku. That… surprised me."
"And especially… that Makino Juro."
At the mention of the name, the atmosphere shifted ever so slightly.
The past few days of film study had been torture.
That guy in jersey No. 16 spent most of the game strolling around like he hadn't woken up yet.
But the moment he touched the ball—
His bizarre dribbling drives and those unreasonable, logic-defying threes…
He was practically a glitch in the system.
"As for tactics against him—"
Before Takato could finish—
BANG!
The shower room door burst open violently.
A wave of heat and steam surged out like a released engine.
A man stepped forward.
His upper body was bare, muscles coiled and defined, bronze skin glistening with water droplets. Every inch of him radiated explosive power.
A towel covered his head.
Even without seeing his face, the oppressive aura—like a beast breaking free from its cage—instantly filled the room.
Maki Shinichi.
The Emperor of Kanagawa.
He yanked off the towel.
Those hawk-like eyes burned with terrifying battle intent.
"Coach. Has the game started yet?"
His voice was low, resonant.
Takato froze for a moment—then burst into laughter.
"Hahaha! Not yet, Maki!"
"There's still time."
Inside, he couldn't help but admire him.
This was Maki Shinichi.
No matter the opponent, this beast remained driven by a primal hunger for victory.
"About that Makino Juro—" Takato tried again.
"No need!"
A cocky voice cut him off.
Kiyota Nobunaga leapt up from the bench like a monkey.
"That lazy guy just hasn't met me yet!"
He thumped his chest proudly, turning to Jin Soichiro.
"Right, Jin-senpai?"
"That kind of opportunistic player—I alone can lock him down!"
Jin Soichiro looked up, his gentle face tinged with concern.
"Nobunaga, don't underestimate him. He's… unusual."
"Tch!"
"That's because he hasn't faced the defense of a super rookie!"
Kiyota lifted his chin arrogantly.
"As long as I'm there, he won't get a single comfortable shot off!"
Maki ignored the rookie's bluster.
He calmly put on his No. 4 jersey—the symbol of glory.
Dressing. Tightening his laces.
Each movement was unhurried.
Yet the entire locker room atmosphere shifted—from preparation… to war.
"Let's go."
Maki's voice wasn't loud, but it carried absolute authority.
"Let's remind them… who the true rulers of Kanagawa are."
Shohoku Locker Room
Compared to Kainan's dominance, this place felt like a gathering of desperadoes.
The air was so heavy it felt like it could drip.
Akagi Takenori stood in the center, his rugged face as firm as iron.
Rukawa Kaede spun a basketball in his hand, searching for his touch.
Mitsui Hisashi's hands trembled slightly—but his eyes burned with fire.
Miyagi Ryota chewed gum, fists clenched tight.
And then there was Makino Juro.
Leaning lazily against a locker, casually swirling half a bottle of Gatorade.
Eyes half-lidded.
Like he could fall asleep any second.
"Everyone."
Akagi spoke, his voice hoarse yet powerful.
"Don't think Kainan is unbeatable."
"They may be legends… undefeated champions…"
His voice suddenly rose, trembling with intensity:
"But for this day—we've dreamed of how to beat them!"
"Before, there was an insurmountable gap between us and Kainan."
"But today…"
Akagi raised his massive hand.
"We're not here to challenge them!"
"We're here to drag the kings off their throne—"
"And stomp them into the ground!"
END OF CHAPTER
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