Facing Shun Izuki's defense, Harano Shinichi's lips curled into a confident smile. His confidence was overflowing. The faltering Izuki was the perfect target, an easy mark—a literal soft spot ready to be exploited.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!"
The unusually rapid dribbling echoed across the court. Speed had increased dramatically. Izuki barely heard the first boom before Harano had vanished from his sight.
To be precise, Izuki had been bypassed. Harano had broken through.
Harano Shinichi reached Seirin's interior and launched a floater. The ball left his hands, sailing into the net effortlessly.
Kagami Taiga and Mitobe Rin's eyes widened as they were pinned by Haizaki Shogo and Suzuran's Karasu, helplessly watching Harano score with ease.
The ball swished through the net, and Fukuda quickly transitioned to defense. Izuki, shaken by the speed of events, brought the ball to midcourt and passed to Taiga Kagami.
Relatively, the ball was safer in Kagami's hands than Izuki's.
Kagami caught the pass, his focus absolute. His eyes never left Haizaki Shogo, afraid that one careless moment would see the ball snatched away.
He inhaled deeply, launched the ball high toward the hoop, and sprinted aggressively toward the paint.
Shogo's eyes lit up. Kagami had clearly improved—his intentions were bold, even admirable.
But a naïve boy… did he think Haizaki Shogo wasn't ready?
Kagami leapt high, feeling as if he were a fish leaping from the water.
But instead of becoming a dragon, a giant net awaited. He was a fish trapped in a net.
Kagami's right hand gripped the ball, filled with the burning desire to dunk it.
But a hand shot up.
"Smack!"
The ball was swatted away. Kagami's eyes widened in shock as he saw Haizaki Shogo hovering in the air. This wasn't just about reaction speed—he realized he was looking up at Shogo, not straight ahead.
What did that mean?
Shogo's vertical leap surpassed Kagami's. Impossible.
Kagami had felt Shogo's jump firsthand, and in Seirin's bench, everyone watching the block was a mix of shock, horror, disbelief, and terror.
In the stands, Aomine Daiki, who had been lounging, straightened his back, wearing a look of "I knew it."
"May, you've watched Shogo and me play so many times… haven't you noticed anything?"
"Notice what, Aomine?"
"Hmph. Shogo has hidden a lot. What he showed me last time was only a fraction."
"Aomine… you mean there are things even you haven't seen?"
"Exactly. I used to think in Japan, only I could defeat myself. Now… I realize I exaggerated. My perspective was too narrow."
"Ah… Aomine…"
Satsuki Momoi was stunned—not by Shogo's spectacular block, but by Aomine, her childhood friend, speaking like that.
Is this really the Aomine I grew up with? The one I worry about? The same arrogant boy who said "only I can beat myself"? Could he really say that?
Her rose-colored eyes widened, staring at the relaxed, lazy aura Aomine exuded.
Aomine glowed with an almost tangible blue aura, radiating charm and raw energy.
"Ah… Aomine…"
"Hmm…"
One was fangirling, the other completely ignoring it—bizarre yet strangely harmonious.
=======
On the court, Shogo blocked Kagami's attempt at an aerial dunk. The ball flew directly to Okawa Sawano.
Shogo's block wasn't random—it was precise.
Once Okawa saw the dunk blocked, he sprinted forward, along with Kimura Tosho, already in position.
Okawa threw a powerful long pass. Tosho caught it, took three long strides, and dunked the ball single-handedly.
Another cut to the basket. Seirin's players were stunned into silence.
The crowd erupted in cheers for the stunning dunk.
Kise Ryouta and Midorima Shintaro's group of four had watched the sequence unfold: Kagami received the pass, Shogo blocked, Tosho dunked. From start to finish, none of the four spoke, eyes fixed on the court.
Finally, Midorima exhaled slowly.
"Seirin High doesn't stand a chance."
Kise wanted to argue, "Kuroko hasn't even entered yet—" but swallowed his words.
"Shin, Fukuda is terrifying. Just watching from the stands gives me chills. Imagine how Seirin feels on the court."
Takao Wakamatsu, a rising star, spoke. His vision and perception caught subtleties others missed, including the oppressive atmosphere—fear itself.
"Seirin's ace, Kagami Taiga, is completely suppressed. Seirin High is done for. The score gap is insurmountable."
On the court, Kagami was deflated—not his spirit, but stunned by the sheer force of the block. Not even in the U.S. had he faced such a hit.
It was a severe blow, yet Kagami was stubborn. His eyes held gravity, careful consideration.
He realized that in Japan, besides the Generation of Miracles, there were five rising stars—and now, one more: Haizaki Shogo.
Burn, my fighting spirit!
Feeling Kagami's will, Shogo's eyes shone like the sun. Excitement, confusion, understanding, and liberation mingled in his mind.
Main character! I'll crush you!
Seirin's players returned to their half for inbounding. Shogo and his team waited for them.
These small details revealed the truth: Seirin's players were not only fatigued from the game pace but also from unnecessary effort in minor movements.
Little streams make mighty rivers; wasted energy now leads to exhaustion later.
They knew it, but they had no choice—they were forced into pointless exertion.
After the last play, Seirin's morale plummeted again. Soft targets appeared one after another.
Except for Kagami, whose fighting spirit flared brighter, the rest were demoralized. In Shogo's eyes, Kagami was still a soft target.
The ball reached midcourt. Hyuga Junpei, far from the three-point line, attempted a shot. Kimura Tosho jumped but didn't block it.
The ball missed. Karasu Suzuran easily secured it. The ball reached Haizaki Shogo, who accelerated down the court, with Kagami furiously chasing behind.