Crack—
Rumble—
In the pitch-black night, violent winds howled as thunder rolled endlessly through the sky. Lightning tore apart the darkness again and again, as though the heavens themselves were raging, attempting to drown out every sound in the world.
Yet strangely, not a single drop of rain fell.
Amid this oppressive darkness, a baby's cry suddenly rang out.
Sharp. Clear. Defiant.
Unlike an ordinary infant's wail, this cry carried an unmistakable sense of resistance—
as if the newborn were shouting back at the heavens themselves.
Akashi felt his head grow unbearably heavy, as though he had slept for an immeasurably long time.
Memories buried deep within his consciousness began to stir, surfacing one fragment after another, flooding his mind.
"What… happened to me?"
The moment his awareness returned, Akashi struggled to open his eyes.
Or rather, it felt as though he was reclaiming his sight after an endless stretch of darkness.
Blinding white light swallowed his vision.
For a brief moment, he could see nothing.
Gradually, the light receded, and vague shapes began to take form. The world slowly came into focus.
Akashi realized he was surrounded by people.
Strangers—every one of them.
Some wore white coats, their expressions calm and practiced.
Doctors?
Nurses?
"Am I… in a hospital?"
A flicker of realization passed through his still-confused mind.
He remembered walking along the road when the ground beneath him suddenly collapsed. There had been a moment of weightlessness—then an endless fall—followed by searing pain throughout his body.
After that… nothing.
"Wow! He's so cute!"
"He opened his eyes already? That's rare."
"Look at his eyes—different colors!"
"Heterochromia? I've never seen that before!"
Excited voices overlapped around him.
But Akashi couldn't understand a single word.
"…What are they saying?"
Judging from their attire and surroundings, this was definitely a hospital.
So I was rescued?
Then—wait.
They're speaking… Japanese?
His confusion deepened.
Before he could think further, his body suddenly felt light.
He was lifted into the air.
"…Huh?"
Akashi stared blankly at the nurse holding him, his thoughts completely scrambled.
He—was being carried?
A moment later, he was gently placed down.
Then, a breathtakingly beautiful face appeared before him.
"Is this… my child?"
The woman's crimson eyes shimmered with tenderness and affection.
Akashi froze.
Her features were exquisitely refined, as if sculpted by an artist. Long crimson hair cascaded down her shoulders, and her presence carried a soft, noble elegance that made it impossible to look away.
This was—
without exaggeration—the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Just then, a sudden light flared within Akashi's mind.
A faint, circular halo appeared before his consciousness.
It resembled a transparent glass ring—its edges glowing softly, while the center remained completely empty.
"…What is this?"
Before he could examine it further, tiny particles of light began drifting toward the halo, slowly gathering within it.
Akashi felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity… and unease.
But before he could dwell on it, another question overwhelmed everything else.
"No—more importantly… what is my situation right now?"
A terrifying thought struck him.
He remembered how easily the nurse had carried him.
The unfamiliar Japanese language.
The woman before him.
His heart began to race.
Slowly, he raised his hands in front of his eyes.
What he saw made his mind go completely blank.
Small.
Soft.
Tiny hands—
the hands of a baby.
His pupils contracted sharply.
"I… became a baby?"
Transmigration?
Rebirth?
Was the woman before him… his mother?
Before he could process it, a man's voice suddenly rang out.
"Is this our child?!"
Akashi turned toward the sound.
A tall man stood there, handsome and dignified, his every movement exuding calm authority. Though his expression was usually stern, unmistakable warmth now softened his features.
"This child resembles you," the man said with a smile. "Even his hair color is the same."
The woman smiled warmly.
"Then… let's give him a name."
The man nodded, thinking for a moment before speaking.
"Akashi Seijuro."
"That's a wonderful name," the woman agreed softly.
She leaned closer and gently spoke to the child in her arms.
"My child, from today onward… your name is Akashi Seijuro."
Three years later.
Akashi—no, Akashi Seijuro—sat quietly on a grassy field, staring up at the vast blue sky.
White clouds drifted lazily overhead as a gentle breeze brushed against his face.
Time had given him clarity.
In these three years, he had fully confirmed one thing—
He had transmigrated.
His reflection alone was proof.
Crimson hair.
Heterochromatic eyes—one golden-red, the other deep crimson.
Such an appearance was impossible in his previous world.
And his mother shared that same crimson hair.
There was no longer any doubt.
What surprised him even more was his family's status.
The estate he lived in was enormous—far beyond what ordinary wealthy families could afford.
And then there was the halo.
For three years, the mysterious halo within his mind had continued to gather light particles without pause.
At first, its center had been completely empty.
Now, it was nearly thirty percent filled.
It reminded him of a charging icon—slow, steady, unstoppable.
By his calculations, it would take eight years to fully complete.
No matter what he tried, the process couldn't be accelerated.
All he could do… was wait.
Yet, it was clear this halo was no ordinary phenomenon.
Perhaps it was his golden finger.
Perhaps not.
But one thing was certain—
since his transmigration, he had changed.
He learned at an astonishing pace.
Languages, knowledge, skills—everything came easily.
His memory was even more terrifying.
Anything he saw once was etched permanently into his mind.
This was not something he possessed in his previous life.
Whether this was a blessing or a curse… he didn't know.
But one thing was clear.
His past life was over.
This world was now his reality.
Three years and three years.
Three years and two years.
Two years and three months.
In the blink of an eye, Akashi Seijuro turned eight years old.
Within the Akashi family, he had become nothing short of a miracle.
Calm. Mature. Intelligent far beyond his age.
His wisdom and learning ability astonished everyone who met him.
A prodigy.
His parents were proud.
And Akashi himself had long grown accustomed to admiration and praise.
Yet he never became arrogant.
Because his true focus lay elsewhere.
The halo in his mind was nearly complete.
One… maybe two months more.
The closer it came to completion, the harder it became to stay calm.
Anticipation burned within him like fire.
Then—
One year ago, everything finally became clear.
He discovered the world he had entered.
The world of Slam Dunk.
The proof?
A familiar name in the news.
Anzai Mitsuyoshi.
The legendary coach—resigning from his university position.
At that moment, Akashi Seijuro fell into silence.
This time…
his future was no longer uncertain.