The first thing Tendou Souji did after calming his breathing was ask a single, extremely important question.
"Is the timeline… aligned?"
The voice that answered him was neutral, mechanical, almost indifferent to the weight of history it carried.
[Confirmed.]
[The timelines of Kuroko no Basket and Slam Dunk are synchronized.]
Souji froze.
Then he laughed.
Not loudly. Not crazily. Just a low breath of disbelief escaping his chest.
Five years.
That was what he had.
Five full years before Teiko Middle School became Teiko.
Five years before miracles were named miracles.
Five years before ego, loneliness, and distorted victory twisted a generation of prodigies.
Five years before playing against those elites from slam dunk.
Five years to prepare—not to rule them, not to crush them, but to walk beside them and to fight against them.
He clenched his fist.
"This time," Souji murmured, "I won't watch from the sidelines."
The Training Begins
The Simulation Training Ground did not look like hell.
At first.
It was a perfectly ordinary indoor basketball court—clean wooden floor, regulation hoops, neutral lighting. No flames. No screams. No madness.
Which was exactly why it was terrifying.
Because Souji knew something instinctively.
This place would not break him with pain.
It would break him with repetition.
The coach assigned to him was not legendary, not dramatic. Just a middle-aged man with sharp eyes and a whistle that never raised its voice.
"Basketball," the coach said on the first day, "is not about miracles."
Souji nodded.
"It's about what you repeat when no one is watching."
That became the rule of his next five years.
---
If Souji had to summarize his advantage in one word, it wasn't talent.
It was basics.
He did not use flashy moves.
He did not play special techniques.
He did not try to imitate the future Generation of Miracles.
Instead, he buried himself in fundamentals so deep they stopped being fundamentals and became instinct.
Dribbling—
Not crossover tricks, but ball height control, hand switching under pressure, weak-hand rhythm, dribble recovery angles.
Passing—
Not no-look flair, but timing windows, defender shoulder alignment, receiver momentum syncing.
Shooting—
Form broken down into microscopic segments.
Wrist angle.
Finger release order.
Balance point relative to center mass.
Defense—
Footwork without reaching.
Reading hips instead of eyes.
Anticipation without gambling.
Every mistake was recorded.
Every improvement logged.
The system quietly optimized his training plan day after day, but it never carried him.
Souji still had to do the work.
And he did.
The Grind of Five Years
Time blurred.
One-on-one matches until his legs shook.
Three-on-three until his lungs burned.
Five-on-five until he forgot which game it was.
He played against slow defenders.
Then fast ones.
Then unpredictable ones.
He learned how to score without touching the ball.
He learned how to control tempo without holding it.
He learned how to lose without breaking his rhythm.
There were days he hated basketball.
Not because it hurt—but because it exposed him.
Every limit he reached forced him to confront a question:
Is this really all you can do?
And every time, Souji answered the same way.
"No."
He didn't scream it.
He didn't dramatize it.
He simply trained again.
By the fourth year, something strange began happening.
Players inside the simulation—generated opponents, trained sparring partners—started hesitating.
Not because Souji was overwhelming.
But because he was always there.
Passing lanes that should have been open weren't.
Drives that felt safe suddenly weren't.
Shots that looked clean felt rushed.
This wasn't intimidation.
It was pressure.
Souji wasn't faster.
He wasn't stronger.
He wasn't taller.
He just understood.
Where the next movement would be.
Where the next option died.
Where the mistake would happen before it did.
The system labeled it simply:
Meta-Vision
Souji didn't care about the name.
To him, it was just the result of watching the game for two lives.
By the fifth year, Souji's training changed again.
No more optimization.
No more safety margins.
Every drill pushed to the edge of failure.
His body adapted.
His mind sharpened.
Not explosively—but steadily.
When the system finally updated his status, Souji didn't react.
He already knew.
---
The morning air was different.
Souji adjusted the strap of his bag as he walked toward Teiko Middle School, surrounded by noise.
Recruitment banners.
Club members shouting slogans.
Upperclassmen trying to lure talent.
He walked through it calmly.
Then he felt it.
One.
Then another.
Then several.
Auras.
Not literal—but unmistakable.
A tall boy with purple lazy posture and eyes that looked bored with the world.
A sharp-eyed red hair point guard scanning everything with too much awareness.
A tanned boy with navy blue hair laughing loudly, completely unbothered.
A quiet green hair shooter standing apart, gaze fixed somewhere distant.
They weren't together.
But they were connected.
So this is them, Souji thought.
The Generation of Miracles—before they were miracles.
That matched the timeline.
Good.
He had time.
The club assessment passed quickly.
Souji didn't dominate.
He didn't hide.
He played correctly.
Efficient movement.
Clean passes.
Timely scoring.
Enough to stand out—but not enough to provoke fear.
When it ended, he felt it again.
Someone was watching him.
Aomine Daiki
Souji found him waiting outside.
Hands in pockets.
Posture loose.
Smile sharp.
"You're strong," Aomine said casually.
Souji met his gaze.
"So are you."
Aomine's smile widened.
"I don't like boring basketball."
Souji tilted his head. "Me neither."
There was a pause.
Then—
"Let's play," Aomine said. "Later."
Not a request.
A challenge.
Souji nodded once.
"After the announcement."
Aomine turned away, satisfied.
Status Check
Status
Name: Tendou Souji
Age: 12
Overall Evaluation: 90 (Middle School)
Talents:
• Absolute Fundamental
• Adaptive Reflex
• Unbreakable Body
• Talented Learner
Attributes (Elementary Phase):
• Physical: 80 (+)
• Skills: 95 (+)
• Mental: 95 (+)
Skills:
• Basketball Fundamentals (Peak)
• Meta-Vision
Shop Points: 1000
Then Aomine's.
Aomine Daiki
Overall: 85 (99+ Potential)
Physical: 82
Skills: 93
Mental: 80
Talents:
• Perfect Ball Sense
• Freeform Instinct
• Zone (Inaccessible)