[Ding!]
[Host has encountered Kanagawa's ace point guard — Fujima Kenji]
[Mission Triggered: The Showdown of Ace Point Guards]
[Mission Requirement: Host must use the Point Guard (PG) template and lead the team to victory]
[Mission Reward: Unlock 50% progress of the "Akashi Seijūrō" template]
[Failure Penalty: Stamina reduced by half; one random template will be reclaimed]
The cold, mechanical voice exploded in Makino Juro's mind.
His fingers, still gripping the water bottle, stiffened slightly.
Those half-lidded, perpetually sleepy eyes of his snapped wide open for once.
"…Huh? System, did you short-circuit or something?"
Makino Juro rolled his eyes internally.
"I only have the Kuroko template right now."
"And you want me to use a 'shadow' to beat their 'ace'?"
Sure, Kuroko Tetsuya was a top-tier support—his passes unpredictable and deadly.
But the guy wearing the green No. 4 jersey across the court…
That was a monster who could drive, shoot, and pass—on par with Maki Shinichi, one of Kanagawa's Twin Pillars.
Using a support player to crush an all-around ace?
That was like sending a healer to solo a boss fight.
"...Tch. What a pain."
Makino Juro scratched his head. He complained—but his body had already made its decision.
A penalty like halved stamina?
That was practically a death sentence.
He casually tossed the towel onto the back of his chair and was just about to stand—
When a thick, steady hand gently pressed down on his shoulder.
"Wait a little longer, Makino Juro."
Coach Anzai's glasses reflected a faint glint, obscuring his eyes, but his voice remained calm and grounded like a mountain.
"Fujima has only just taken off his warm-up."
"Right now, his momentum is at its peak."
"Observe first."
"See for yourself just how terrifying Shohoku's opponent becomes when Fujima is its soul."
Makino Juro raised an eyebrow, then sat back down—this time lounging even more comfortably.
"Alright, old man."
"Let's let that narcissist perform a bit longer."
On the court, the air felt heavy—almost suffocating.
Fujima Kenji's presence wasn't just adding one more player.
It was as if he had injected a soul into the entire Shoyo team.
Takano and Nagano, who had looked slightly shaken before, now had eyes as hard as steel.
"Shohoku offense!!"
Miyagi Ryota shouted, pushing the ball forward.
His speed was explosive—like a bolt of lightning tearing through the air.
But Fujima didn't press him closely.
Instead, he stood just a step inside the three-point line, calm and precise—like a perfectly calibrated machine.
That gaze…
It wasn't looking at an opponent.
It was looking at prey.
"Don't underestimate me!"
Miyagi gritted his teeth and snapped his wrist.
The ball shot inside like a cannon.
"Captain!!"
Akagi Takenori caught it and immediately backed down Takano.
"RAAAAH!!"
The gorilla roared, powering through as he spun and leapt.
But at that exact moment.
Nagano, who had been guarding Rukawa, and Hanagata, who had been watching Sakuragi, collapsed inward in perfect synchronization.
As if rehearsed a thousand times.
Three pairs of long arms wove together into a suffocating green net.
SMACK!!
A crisp, brutal sound echoed.
Akagi's near-guaranteed basket was swatted away.
The ball hit the rim and bounced up.
From within the chaos—
A flash of red exploded upward.
"It's not over yet!!"
"The genius's rebound!!"
Sakuragi Hanamichi soared, displaying inhuman athleticism as he snatched the ball with both hands, his face lit with wild joy.
But the instant he landed—
A green blur swept past him.
No contact.
No wasted motion.
Sakuragi only felt his palms go light.
The ball—
Was gone.
"…What?!"
He stared at his empty hands, eyes wide.
"Fast break."
A calm, cool voice came from ahead.
Fujima Kenji had already crossed midcourt, dribbling smoothly, his brown hair flowing with the motion—his back elegant and composed.
In the stands, Maki Shinichi crushed the can in his hand.
"Fujima… even as a player-coach, his instincts are still terrifyingly sharp."
On the court, the chase began.
White versus green.
"Don't think you're getting past!!"
Miyagi burst forward at full speed, sticking tightly behind Fujima.
Their pace was so fast it left afterimages, leaving everyone else far behind.
Closer!
A sharp glint flashed in Miyagi's eyes.
If Fujima dared to go for a layup, he was confident he could block it from behind.
But—
Near the free-throw line, Fujima stopped without warning.
Miyagi reacted instantly, braking hard and shifting to cut him off.
Got him!
Ayako clenched her fist in excitement.
But Miyagi's pupils suddenly shrank.
Fujima didn't fake.
Didn't pass.
He jumped.
From that distance?
A pull-up jumper?!
And most deadly of all—
He was left-handed.
Used to guarding right-handed players, Miyagi's timing for the block lagged for just a split second.
And that moment.
Was enough.
Fujima reached the apex of his jump, his left wrist flicking softly.
"Get down here!!"
From behind, Sakuragi came charging like a beast, leaping high as his massive hand slammed toward the ball.
Too late.
The ball had already left Fujima's hand.
BAM!!
Unable to stop his momentum, Sakuragi crashed into Fujima—sending both him and Miyagi tumbling to the floor.
The three of them rolled together in a mess.
Swish!
The ball arced through the air in a perfect rainbow—
Nothing but net.
"BEEEEEP!!"
The referee's sharp whistle pierced the arena.
He pointed at Sakuragi and made a firm signal.
"Red No. 10! Excessive contact—warning foul!"
"Basket counts! One free throw!"
"Possession remains with Shoyo!"
The entire arena erupted.
"It's over! That's basically a death sentence!"
"They lost the points, gave up a free throw, and still lose possession?!"
Sakuragi lay on the floor, grimacing in pain.
Just as he was about to get up and argue—
A hand extended toward him.
Not to help him up.
But to push off him.
Fujima Kenji rose to his feet, adjusting his jersey without even sparing Sakuragi a glance.
Instead, he looked down at Miyagi, whose face had turned ashen.
"Your speed is impressive."
Fujima's tone was calm—like commenting on the weather.
"But as a point guard, speed alone isn't enough."
He tapped his temple.
"You need this, too."
Humiliation.
Textbook-level humiliation.
Miyagi Ryota's fingers dug into the floor.
A crushing sense of helplessness swallowed him whole.
No matter how hard he chased—
The opponent always stood above, looking down with ease.
40:44.
Fujima made the free throw.
Then Shoyo inbounded.
Fujima held the ball.
With just a glance, Hanagata immediately stepped up for a screen.
Simple pick-and-roll.
Perfect execution.
Fujima drove, drew the defense—
Then fired a surgical bounce pass straight through the defense.
Hanagata caught it and finished with ease.
40:46.
In just one minute.
The entire situation flipped.
"Unstoppable…"
"The moment Fujima stepped in, it's like Shoyo became a completely different team!"
The crowd roared, nearly lifting the roof off.
All of it—cheers for Shoyo.
Shohoku's bench, on the other hand, fell into dead silence.
Coach Anzai glanced at the clock.
Finally, his chubby hand lifted slightly.
"Makino Juro."
"Here."
The figure who had been lazily slumped in his seat was already standing.
Makino Juro removed his jacket, revealing the No. 16 jersey underneath.
He rolled his neck—crack, crack.
"Go."
A glint flashed behind Anzai's glasses.
"Sub in for Miyagi."
"Got it."
"BEEP! Shohoku requests a substitution!"