"What the heck was that move?"
"Was that even a real shot? Looked like he just tossed it."
"With that form? The ball actually went in? Am I seeing things?"
…
The crowd rubbed their eyes in disbelief, stunned by what they'd just witnessed.
Aida Hikoichi pointed toward the court, fingers trembling, eyes wide, face full of shock. "Th-th-that… what even was that?! That shot was insane!"
Koshino Hiroaki frowned deeply, face grim. "This feeling… it's like I've seen it before."
Ikegami Ryoji was still frozen, replaying that incredible scene in his mind. He murmured, "That wasn't a jump shot. Was that a hook shot?"
Sendoh Akira took a deep breath, his expression growing more serious. In a low voice, he said, "Looks like my guess was right. That guy's really good at that kind of shot."
…
"Fujima…" Hanagata Toru turned with a stunned face toward Fujima Kenji, hoping to hear his take.
Fujima Kenji locked his eyes on Aoi Kunisaku, brows slightly furrowed. After a long silence, he finally said, "Let's keep watching."
…
Maki Shinichi narrowed his eyes into slits.
Right now, the only thing in his vision was Aoi Kunisaku. In his heart, he thought, "This game is shifting. Shohoku's number 9… is a real problem."
Just now, he felt an inexplicable pressure from Aoi.
That same pressure he'd only experienced during national tournaments against real monsters.
He imagined himself defending that last move. If he were guarding Aoi just then, he'd probably have ended up like Nango Koichiro—unable to stop anything.
The moment that thought hit, even Maki scared himself.
No way…
That number 9's just a first-year punk!
…
Back on Shohoku's side, the players were just as stunned, but mostly thrilled.
Miyagi Ryota came back to his senses. Though he didn't want to admit it, he muttered in awe, "That was sick."
Mitsui Hisashi shook off his shock, then smirked. "Only a first-year punk, huh? Still gotta admit, that shot was smooth."
Akagi Takenori admired it too, though he couldn't show it on his face. He stayed stiff and said in a low voice, "Not bad."
As for Rukawa Kaede, his eyes locked on Aoi Kunisaku, burning with battle lust. If this weren't a game, he'd have rushed over to challenge him to a one-on-one already.
…
Nango Koichiro gritted his teeth in frustration. "Damn it! You just got lucky. Next time won't be so easy!"
Clap… clap… clap…
Godai Tomokazu had also been startled by that shot, but once he snapped out of it, he clapped and called out, "Don't let it get to you. Stay solid. This game's only just getting started!"
With their captain's voice ringing out, Tsukubu's players finally shook off the shock.
Now wasn't the time to be zoning out.
Offense and defense shifted again. Tsukubu in-bounded and launched another attack.
This time, they intentionally avoided Aoi Kunisaku and worked their way around to attack Shohoku's paint from the side.
Thanks to Godai Tomokazu's support, the ball got to Nango Koichiro.
Nango jumped and threw down a clean dunk.
As he landed, he threw a taunting look at Aoi Kunisaku. "I told you. I'll beat you."
Aoi didn't even glance at him. He ignored it completely.
But a sharp glint flashed in his eyes.
Shohoku inbounded.
This time, before Tsukubu could close in and double Aoi, they got the ball to him cleanly.
Bounce…
Bounce…
Bounce…
Aoi Kunisaku dribbled slowly, his eyes calmly scanning the Tsukubu lineup.
He didn't rush the attack. He walked the ball up like he was out for a stroll.
Mine Kenta quickly stepped up to guard him.
Aoi stopped.
Tsukubu's other players tightened their marks, expecting a pass.
If Aoi had known what they were thinking, he'd have sneered.
Pass?
Yeah, right.
In an instant, something strange spread from him like ripples on a calm lake.
It centered on Aoi Kunisaku and quietly expanded outward.
Suddenly, the Tsukubu players felt their bodies get heavier, like they'd stepped into a gravity field.
Every muscle, every bone, even the blood in their veins felt weighed down.
What the hell is this?
Where's this pressure coming from?
Why does it feel so ominous?
Confused and anxious, they looked for the source.
Their eyes locked onto Aoi Kunisaku.
Right now, Aoi had a faint smirk on his lips. His gaze was calm like still water, but icy like a blade.
An aura of sharp confidence and quiet dominance surrounded him. It made everyone around instinctively tense up.
The Tsukubu players all swallowed hard. Cold sweat rolled down their foreheads.
The players on the court could feel it.
But the audience had no idea what was happening.
They all started talking at once.
"Why didn't he fast break just now?"
"He's already covered. No way to fast break now."
"Don't tell me he's out of stamina?"
…
The crowd sighed in disappointment at Aoi Kunisaku missing a chance to attack.
But the next second, Aoi moved.
With a sudden between-the-legs dribble, the move came out of nowhere—but oddly, it wasn't all that fast.
Still manageable.
Mine Kenta quickly spread his arms wide, eyes bulging, focused intensely on every movement Aoi made.
Then, in a flash—whoosh—a red blur streaked past. Mine Kenta blinked, and Aoi was gone.
"What?!"
His eyes nearly popped out of his skull. His brain froze. He looked like he'd seen a ghost.
He… vanished?
By the time his reflexes kicked in, Mine Kenta spun around instinctively, following the gust of wind that had brushed past him.
All he saw was Aoi's back, already speeding away.
So fast… What the hell is that speed? That first step was insane!
Shock crashed through Mine Kenta's mind like a tsunami. He was completely speechless.
The Tsukubu players were just as stunned. Their faces changed instantly, gasping in disbelief.
In the stands, Fujima Kenji, Hanagata Toru, and Maki Shinichi stared with wide eyes.
They'd watched basketball for years, but never seen someone fly down half the court in the blink of an eye—while dribbling the whole way.
Was that even human?
Even a sprinter's final burst couldn't top that.
Bounce…
Bounce…
Bounce…
The sharp, rapid sound of dribbles echoed like firecrackers.
Before Tsukubu's players could even process what was happening, Aoi Kunisaku had already dashed past the three-point line like a red lightning bolt.
Only then did Tsukubu's team turn and look, eyes full of fear, staring at that monstrous figure.
Nango Koichiro snapped out of it first. When he saw Aoi right in front of him, he reacted fast.
He charged forward, arms wide like a wall, yelling, "Try and score on me now! I'm blocking you!"
Aoi's eyes stayed calm like still water. His movements were smooth and fluid—no pause at all.
He took a powerful step into the paint. His toe nearly brushed Nango's. Then he stopped cold and jumped up in one clean motion.
"You're not scoring that easy!" Nango shouted as Aoi leapt. He kicked off hard and launched into the air.
His arms stretched out like giant brooms, completely covering Aoi's shooting path.
But the next moment, Nango's smug face stiffened.
His expression spun through shock like a flipping slideshow—first confusion, then surprise, then disbelief, panic, and finally pure horror.
Not just him—the crowd, Tsukubu's players, Shohoku's team, even the bench—everyone in the gym fell silent. Mouths slowly opened. Eyes widened. Shock, awe, and disbelief filled every face.
Sendoh Akira stared with wide eyes. "You've gotta be kidding me…"
Aida Hikoichi was frozen. "Oh my god…"
Uozumi Jun had his jaw dropped. "What kind of joke is this? That guy…"
Fujima Kenji frowned hard, muttering, "No way something like this is real…"
Hanagata Toru couldn't even form a sentence. "That…"
Maki Shinichi didn't say a word. But the deep furrow in his brow and his heavy stare said it all.
…
On the court, time felt frozen.
Shohoku's players who were going to back up Aoi… Tsukubu's players trying to recover on defense… all of them stopped in place, locked on the duel between Aoi Kunisaku and Nango Koichiro.
More accurately, they were all staring at Aoi.
Suspended in mid-air, Aoi leaned backward in a posture that defied logic.
Further and further he leaned, until he was nearly parallel with the floor—like he was lying flat in mid-air.
And still, he held the ball steady, not shooting yet.
Then, the corner of Aoi's mouth curled up. He smirked and said softly, "You jumped pretty high… but that's about all you've got."
Right as the words left his mouth, his arms snapped forward.
The ball arced high, brushing just above Nango's outstretched hands, flying toward Tsukubu's basket.
While Nango was frozen with frustration and disbelief, a crisp swish rang out from behind him.
Swish…
The ball went in.
Bounce… bounce… bounce-bounce…
The basketball hit the ground and rolled to the side.
The scoreboard changed silently.
Shohoku 8 – 10 Tsukubu.
For a moment, the entire gym fell deathly quiet.
You could hear a pin drop.
Then—boom—it was like a dormant bomb exploded in the stands.