"Ugh…"
A low groan escaped from just outside the gym of Teikō Middle School's basketball club, piercing the chilly afternoon air.
Reo Byakuya rubbed his temples with a wry smile as he stood at the entrance, surrounded by the excited chatter of girls.
It had been over a year since he woke up in this new life — and even now, the fact that he had been reincarnated into the world of Kuroko no Basket still felt surreal. At first, all he knew was that he had somehow ended up in Japan, but as time passed, things started to click.
Fortunately, thanks to his old-world habit of watching anime and dramas, Reo understood Japanese. What shocked him more was that he could speak it perfectly, as if the knowledge had been hardwired into his mind.
In this life, he wasn't some ordinary middle schooler. He was the son of Byakuya Kenzō, a retired basketball legend and the CEO of one of Japan's top corporations. Everyone expected Reo to follow in his father's business footsteps.
But Reo had no interest in boardrooms or stock markets.
What he loved — truly, obsessively — was basketball.
So when he had the chance to transfer to Teikō Middle School, home of Japan's most promising young basketball talent, he didn't hesitate.
"Sumimasen, sumimasen…" he muttered as he tried to slip through the crowd of girls blocking his way.
The process was as painful as it was… soft. Japan might be cold this time of year, but that didn't stop these girls from wearing dangerously short skirts.
Man, what kind of school dress code allows this?
Reo scoffed internally at the island's "cultural quirks," but he had to admit — they were certainly bold.
"Kyaa! Reo-sama is so cool!"
"He's still just as handsome as ever…"
"I wish I could be his girlfriend…"
"No way! Reo-sama's never dated anyone!"
"Eh? Could he be… y'know?"
"Don't say weird stuff, Inoue-chan!"
Reo kept his expression calm, almost bored. He was used to this kind of attention. It didn't matter to him anymore.
Girls… always chasing the surface. Not one of them could even handle my Zone.
He adjusted his collar and stepped toward the gym entrance.
"Is this the basketball club registration?"
The voice came from a boy sitting at a table by the gym doors — probably a second-year. He barely looked up.
But when Reo stepped closer, casting a long shadow over the desk, the boy's eyes finally widened. So tall…
"Y-Yeah. If you're here to join, fill out this form."
"Thanks," Reo replied with a polite nod.
He casually jotted down his information — height, weight, BMI. Nothing special.
He didn't blame the guy for acting indifferent. After all, Teikō's basketball club hadn't reached peak fame yet. The Generation of Miracles hadn't officially formed — not yet. But Reo knew this school's future.
Akashi Seijūrō. Midorima Shintarō. Aomine Daiki. Murasakibara Atsushi. Kise Ryōta.
Five prodigies destined to shake the basketball world — and Reo had come to challenge each and every one of them.
And in the shadows of those five, another — the "Phantom Sixth Man."
Kuroko Tetsuya.
Reo's blood stirred just thinking about them. The fire in his chest roared to life.
Yeah… only basketball makes me feel this alive.
He handed the form back and walked into the gym, casually observing the players running drills. Their fundamentals were solid, and the intensity was there.
But to him? They were just… average.
After all, Reo had awakened the Zone more than a year ago. And not just once — he could enter it at will.
Still, watching them had some entertainment value.
"Hmm… too slow."
"That pass should've gone to the wing."
"Why are you driving into double coverage? What is this — hero ball?"
Reo muttered commentary to himself as he analyzed the scrimmage. His tone wasn't exactly friendly — more like a cold, sharp critique. On the court, he had zero patience for mediocrity.
A year ago, he'd traumatized an entire grade-school team by shredding them 1v5. He hadn't even meant to — he'd just gotten too into it. Since then, the "gentle Reo" image some girls had clung to completely collapsed.
Strangely, it only made them love him more.
Good looks really are justice, huh.
But today, Reo picked the wrong time — and the wrong crowd — to unleash his sharp tongue.
"Oi… who the hell does this guy think he is?"
"You badmouthing our team, pretty boy?"
Several players stopped their drills and turned toward him, their expressions a mix of confusion and irritation.
Even those not playing were glaring at him.
Reo blinked, innocent. "Hm? Did I say something?"
"YOU—!"
"You think you're hot stuff? Try stepping on the court, tough guy!"
The noise built like a wave crashing toward him. Reo just smirked.
Hit a nerve, did I?
He casually flicked his ear and looked up at the clock.
"Still boring. When are the real players getting here…?"
He hadn't come to play with small fry.
He came for the kings.