"Huh? What is it?"
The rookie point guard, frustrated from multiple turnovers, didn't exactly sound friendly when Yuki came over to talk.
From the side, Kota immediately picked up on the exchange, pricking up his ears and waiting to see how Yuki would respond.
"Uh… well… it's nothing, really."
Yuki fiddled with his fingers, completely forgetting the speech he had prepared in his head before coming over.
"It's just… could you pass me the ball a bit more? I haven't even touched it yet…"
By the end, his voice had shrunk to a mumble. Hearing this from the sidelines, Kota covered his face with his hand, sighing in silent exhaustion.
"Uh? Oh… okay."
The rookie point guard was a little confused at Yuki's request. He'd thought Yuki came over to criticize his play.
"I'll get it to you next possession, then."
From the second quarter until now, Yuki hadn't even touched the ball. Because of that, the rookie squad had been dominated, their offense stalling into a full-on scoring drought.
This time, on the rookie squad's possession, Yuki didn't crash into the paint to battle Hayakawa for position. Instead, he drifted to the three-point line, waiting for the pass.
What's with this guy? What power forward catches the ball out there? Is he tall but clueless?
Every rookie on the court thought the same thing. A big man refusing to bang in the paint and hanging out at the arc? Madness.
Of course, they forgot—Yuki wasn't a true post player. Not every tall guy is a center, just like not every short player is a guard.
Still, out of his earlier promise, the rookie point guard—though clearly doubtful—swung the ball over to Yuki.
The moment Yuki caught it, every upperclassman from Kaijō's second and third years shifted their expressions.
Finally gonna see him go one-on-one?
Kota licked his lips but didn't switch his defensive assignment with Hayakawa. He shot the rookie point guard in front of him a glance and shook his head slightly.
Let these rookies see just how big the gap can be between players their own age.
"Bring it on!"
Hayakawa slapped his cheeks hard, fire in his eyes. Yuki blinked—his aura was intense… but his defensive stance was loose.
With a quick glance at Hayakawa's positioning, Yuki threw a pump fake and drove right. No hesitation, no fancy rhythm change—just one clean, decisive step, and Hayakawa was left in the dust.
The crowd gasped at the burst of speed.
And he wasn't done. In the paint, Yuki scanned the defense — Kaijō's center reacted fast, planting his feet for help defense. The rookie squad's own center? Still frozen like a traffic cone.
Decision made, Yuki took off, exploding upward with the ball high in one hand — straight into a poster dunk attempt.
Soaring like an airman, he met the upperclassman center at the rim. The veteran could only raise both arms in a futile attempt to contest, ultimately becoming nothing more than a perfect background prop.
BANG!
The dunk shook the hoop.
Two points, rookie squad.
From the bench, Takeuchi shot up, fist-pumping in excitement.
The rookie squad was left slack-jawed. Stepping down from the rim as if nothing happened, Yuki was suddenly approached by rookie center Takumi, who reached out to touch his arm.
Startled, Yuki froze like a deer in headlights—unsure what this guy's deal was.
"Uh—don't get me wrong! I just… it didn't feel real. I've only seen dunks like that on TV."
Seeing Yuki tense up, Takumi waved his hands apologetically.
On the sideline, other rookies whispered among themselves.
"Did you see that dunk? Unreal!"
"Knew it—if Kota-senpai remembers someone's name, they're no ordinary player!"
Even Kise couldn't help but let out a low whistle. "Kid's got serious talent."
"Never thought I'd hear you say that" Kota teased. Usually, people said "serious talent" about him.
"Heh. Recognizing someone else's skill is part of being a genius too, y'know?"
Kise raised an eyebrow and grinned. "So—how about you and me each take a shot at him?"
"No problem. But I'm going first."
Kota, fired up, took the ball and waved Yuki over. He couldn't wait.
"Careful, Kota. At this rate you might lose your starting spot" Kise laughed, hands on hips.
"Please. Even if I lost my starting role, I'd still be captain."
The night before Kasamatsu graduated, he'd passed the captaincy to Kota — and no one in Kaijō had objected. Kota was the team's brain. If not him, then who? Sure, Kise was stronger talent-wise, but in both temperament and playing style, Kota fit the role best.
On the rookie side, seeing Kota call out Yuki, the point guard stepped aside to let Yuki guard him.
Kota didn't take an immediate shot—he dribbled patiently, waiting for Yuki to close in. Of course, if this were a real match, he'd have taken advantage of the defensive switch to launch a jumper without hesitation.
With the stage set by both teammate and opponent, even Yuki—normally one to avoid the spotlight—couldn't back out.
He stepped stiffly in front of Kota, looking awkward. If this weren't a scrimmage, Kota figured he'd probably be bowing 90 degrees.
"Relax. This isn't an official game—no need to look like you're guarding Michael Jordan."
Kota sighed. His little underclassman's shyness could be a bit much.
"Besides, I'm not the only one who wants a go at you" he added, nodding toward Kise, who waved cheerfully.
"…Kise-senpai."
Yuki's eyes lit up. While Kota was the one who invited him to Kaijō, deep down he'd always wanted to play alongside Kise. Passing to a strong teammate was one of the pure joys of basketball.
"Alright, enough chit-chat. Ready, rookie?"
Kota licked his lips, a spark of competitive fire in his eyes.
Big Man Bully Playbook
Though he lacked a height advantage, Kota had a solid frame—few players outside of pro-level big men could match his strength.
A couple dribbles to test the waters—he read Yuki's stance carefully.
"As expected of someone who trains with the youth national team—tough to find a gap."
Without wasting time, Kota stepped back, then instantly changed direction. Yuki turned quickly to stay with him, but as soon as he matched the movement, Kota stopped on a dime, spun the other way, and drove.
That change of pace left Yuki half a step behind.
"Not so fast!"
Takumi, the rookie center, saw Kota break through and stepped up with a roar.
Expression unchanged, Kota faked a pass to Hayakawa, eyes tracking that way convincingly.
Master of Fakes
"He's passing—right?"
Takumi read the situation, slid over to cut off the lane—and immediately realized his mistake. Kota smiled, rose up, and dropped in a soft floater before Takumi could recover.
BEEP—
Two points, Kota.
"Not bad defensive instincts" Kota said with a grin as he jogged back.
"You're smart—just not too smart. Keep working. Senpai's watching."
Instead of being offended, Takumi's eyes shone. This was exactly why he'd joined Kaijō—he loved Kota's style.
"Man, his drive was so quick. That fake was completely believable! Even his trash talk is perfect. If only I'd been closer—I could've actually touched Kota-senpai!"
Unaware of his underclassman's… overenthusiastic thoughts, Kota only noticed Takumi's strange look.
"Wait… did I go too hard on him?"
"Yikes… without Kasamatsu around, I'm getting way too cheeky."
Not good. He had to straighten himself out. As captain, he had to set the right tone. First step—channel Kasamatsu's spirit.
He glanced toward Kise—still busy waving to his fangirls. Without hesitation, Kota chopped him in the side with a karate hand strike.
"Ow! What the—Kasamatsu-senp—wait. Kota?!"
Kise clutched his side, wincing. Only after turning did he remember Kasamatsu had graduated—this was Kota's doing.
"Call me Captain," Kota said flatly.
"…Are you feeling okay?"
"Call me Captain."
"…Yes, Captain."