A flick of the wrist.
The basketball left his hand.
It didn't fly toward the hoop.
Instead, spinning violently, it soared over the top edge of the backboard, tracing an impossibly high arc through the air.
Like a mischievous meteor, slipping past every known law of physics—
and then dropping straight down.
Silence.
The entire arena fell dead quiet.
Thousands of eyes locked onto that orange ball, as if time itself had frozen.
Sendoh maintained his defensive stance, head tilted back, neck stiff.
The ball spun… descended…
"Swish."
A soft sound—
like a lover's whisper..
yet it exploded through the silent gym like thunder.
Nothing but net.
"Thud."
Makino Juro landed, both feet stepping out of bounds.
He didn't even look back.
He simply turned, facing away from the basket, raised his right hand high—
and extended a single finger.
A gesture, arrogant to the extreme.
61:51.
"BOOOOM!!!"
Three seconds late, the cheers finally erupted like a volcanic explosion, nearly blowing the roof off the arena.
"It… it went in?!"
"He shot it from behind the backboard?! Is that even legal?!"
"Ref! I'm reporting this—someone's hacking!!"
"Where's Newton?! Do something!"
"Oh right, Newton doesn't govern basketball, huh?!"
The commentator's jaw dropped wide enough to fit two eggs.
The Ryonan bench collectively turned to stone, players clutching their heads in despair.
"How do you even defend that?!"
"He scored from THAT angle—this isn't basketball, it's magic!!"
On the court.
Sendoh was still staring up at the rim.
That shot replayed endlessly in his mind—
the arc, the spin, the release point…
For an ordinary player, that alone would've shattered their mentality.
But not Sendoh.
His shoulders began to tremble.
"Heh…"
A low chuckle slipped out.
Then it grew louder.
"Heh… hehehe… HAHAHAHA!"
He laughed so hard tears nearly came out, turning to look at Juro's retreating figure.
There was no frustration in his eyes—
only a near-mad, burning excitement.
"I see now…"
"So this is how basketball can be played."
He looked down at his own hand.
That subtle flick of Makino Juro's wrist—
that strange way of generating force midair...
It was like lightning splitting open the limits in his mind.
All this time, he had been the embodiment of "perfect basketball."
But perfection…
also meant restraint.
It lacked wildness.
It lacked madness.
And now...
Makino Juro had come like a demolition crew, smashing his entire "textbook" into pieces.
"…Thanks."
Sendoh picked up the ball and murmured softly.
"You're a jerk… but you're the best teacher I could ask for."
Ryonan possession.
Sendoh brought the ball up.
This time—
his rhythm had changed.
Gone was the steady, textbook control.
Now it was erratic.
Fast, then slow.
Strange… unpredictable.
Almost like—
Juro's style.
"…Huh?"
Makino Juro paused mid-retreat and glanced back.
Sendoh was already charging toward him, body tilted, the ball dancing at his fingertips.
That posture—
"Learning on the fly?"
Makino Juro narrowed his eyes.
"You've got Sharingan or something? That's way too fast."
Sendoh closed in.
No slowing down. No passing.
A huge behind-the-back dribble—
into a spin!
The movement wasn't as smooth as Makino Juro's.
There was still a trace of stiffness.
But the intent—
the mechanics...
it was a near-perfect imitation.
"You wanna dance too?"
Makino Juro snorted, sliding laterally to cut him off.
But at that exact moment.
Sendoh flicked his wrist.
The ball didn't hit the floor.
Instead, it whipped out from behind his back at a tricky angle—
straight to the corner.
Fukuda was wide open.
A no-look pass.
Delivered in that same bizarre, "formless" style.
"What?!"
Even Juro froze for a split second.
Fukuda caught it, rose, and knocked down the mid-range jumper.
61:53.
"Nice shot!!"
Taoka Moichi jumped out of his seat, ecstatic.
"Did you see that?!"
"That's Sendoh!"
"That's the ace of Ryonan!!"
After scoring, Sendoh didn't celebrate.
He turned toward Makino Juro.
Raised his right hand.
Pointed a finger to the sky.
The exact same gesture.
"That move…"
He smiled, provoking.
"…not bad. I've learned it too."
Makino Juro looked at him—
and smiled.
A smile that was both delighted…
and dangerous.
"Interesting. Very interesting."
He rolled his neck, the lazy air around him completely gone.
In its place—
a chilling, violent aura.
"If you want to learn…"
"I'll show you everything—what you know, what you don't, what you dare to imagine… and what you don't."
He pointed at the scoreboard.
"As for tuition…"
"You'll pay with this game."
The game went on.
But everyone could feel it—
the battle between these two monsters…
had only just begun.
In the corner.
Rukawa Kaede remained silent.
But the fire in his eyes had spread into a blazing inferno.
He was waiting.
Waiting for a moment...
a chance to devour both monsters in one bite.
In the stands, Maki Shinichi exhaled slowly, watching the chaotic yet breathtaking scene unfold.
"…Kanagawa's sky…"
"…is about to change."
Sweat dripped from Juro's chin, splattering onto the hardwood.
His lungs felt like they were stuffed with burning steel wool—every breath sharp and scorching.
Logically, his legs should've been trembling by now.
He should've been dying for a break.
But strangely—
he felt no fatigue.
Or rather...
dopamine and adrenaline had completely overridden it.
This feeling…
was intoxicating.
"Thump! Thump! Thump!"
The ball pounded the floor, alive in his hands.
Across from him—
Sendoh's signature smile had twisted under the flood of sweat, his eyes blazing like twin spotlights.
"Come on!"
Makino Juro grinned wide, feral.
"Let me see how much your memory can hold!"
Before the words even finished—
he was gone.
No wind-up.
Instant acceleration!
Aomine Daiki Template — Super High-Speed Dribble!
His body dropped low.
Like a black lightning bolt skimming the floor—
he tore straight through Sendoh's right-side defense.
"Not happening!"
Sendoh roared.
His body twisted unnaturally, dragging his center of gravity back by pure reflex.
No prediction—
just raw instinct.
The two bodies collided mid-motion.
"BANG!"
A dull, bone-rattling impact.
Using the rebound force, Makino Juro slammed on the brakes at full speed.
The ball snapped under his legs in a lightning-fast crossover...
his body shifting violently in the opposite direction.
A move like that—
would've sent a normal player straight to the orthopedic clinic.
But Sendoh only staggered.
His shoe screeched against the floor—
and he forced himself back into position like a nail hammered into wood.
"Not done yet!"
Juro's eyes flared with a deep, eerie glow.
If he couldn't shake him—
then he'd overpower him.
—To be continued.