"Street basketball like what you're seeing here is only at an average level. At this age, the real top-tier players are all in high school varsity teams and university squads."
Hearing Nijimura Shuzo's explanation, Haizaki Shogo showed no particular reaction. He had already seen the true peak of this generation in America—Nash Gold Jr. and Jason Silver—so naturally, he didn't think much of the players here. Compared to them, even players like Nick, Allen, Zack, and the other substitutes were on a completely different level.
Still… playing a bit and experiencing the atmosphere of American street basketball wasn't a bad idea. It might even be fun.
About twenty minutes later, it was finally their turn.
In this 3-on-3 format, the rule was simple: the first team to score three baskets won. Games ended quickly.
Nijimura's Black friend was called Acevia, a tall, lean player whose agility came from years of playing street basketball. Acting as the point guard, Acevia immediately passed the ball to Nijimura Shuzo, the teammate he was most familiar with. Under the basket, Nijimura battled hard against another Black player before finishing with a hook shot.
Possession switched.
Haizaki found himself guarding a Black player who was slightly shorter than him. The opponent dribbled in front of him with flashy, street-style ball handling.
Trying to clown me because I look unfamiliar?
Kid… you picked the wrong place to show off your tricks.
Haizaki smiled faintly. Whether it was amusement, mockery, or boredom, even he wasn't sure.
But it didn't matter.
In a single motion, he reached out and stole the ball cleanly. He dribbled beyond the three-point line with effortless ease, almost casually. Facing the irritated defender who rushed toward him, Haizaki deliberately slowed down.
Then he began mirroring him.
Crossover left to right…
Between-the-legs…
Behind-the-back retreat…
Fake shot into step-through…
A perfect copy of street-style rhythm—except performed better, cleaner, and sharper.
SWISH!
The ball dropped cleanly through the net.
Haizaki turned, glanced at the stunned defender, and casually spread his hands as though to say it had nothing to do with him.
It wasn't my fault.
It was simply that the opponent was too weak.
The defender had already been completely broken by the sequence of feints and rhythm changes.
If the readers were here in person, they would probably shout, "That's a show-off!"
But for Haizaki, this level of street basketball was simply too easy. Stealing the ball felt as natural as breathing.
SWISH!
Another clean three-pointer.
The opposing team was eliminated immediately, and a new group stepped up.
The next team was even weaker.
Another quick elimination.
Half an hour passed. Their team continued winning without interruption, and nearby players gradually gathered to challenge them in a rotating "king of the court" style setup.
Ten minutes later, a stronger group finally arrived.
Even before the game started, Nijimura Shuzo's expression changed.
"Do you know them?" Haizaki asked quietly.
"Yeah," Nijimura replied. "The guy's name is Gareth. He's the ace of the strongest middle school team in this district—City Academy. We lost to them in last season's high school league."
"So it's a revenge match?"
"Something like that. He's definitely here for me and Acevia."
"Strong?"
"Yeah… on the same level as those monsters."
Haizaki smirked.
"Then I'll handle him. Let me measure how heavy he is."
"Be careful—he's fast."
"Relax."
Gareth stepped onto the court.
He was a white player nearly two meters tall, with sharp brown eyes and a strange, cold presence. He held the ball and froze for a moment when he saw Haizaki's defensive stance.
Perfect.
No openings.
In that instant of hesitation—
Haizaki struck.
He stole the ball instantly.
Before Gareth could even react, Haizaki had already stepped beyond the three-point line.
SWISH!
Another shot went in.
The surrounding players were stunned. Gareth, the undefeated ace of this area, had just been stripped and scored on so effortlessly by an unknown Asian player. If they hadn't witnessed it with their own eyes, no one would have believed it.
Gareth narrowed his eyes.
"Are you new here? I've never seen you around."
"I'm just traveling," Haizaki replied casually. "Visiting a friend. You play well."
Gareth's mind went blank for a moment.
Just… "play well"?
He had already been scouted and signed, standing only one step away from entering the NBA draft system, yet this guy treated him like nothing more than a casual opponent.
Gareth exhaled sharply.
This time, he would go all out.
He accelerated.
Faster and faster.
The sound of the ball pounding against the ground grew sharper and heavier.
PA!
He tried to break through on the right—
Haizaki's hand shot out like lightning.
A clean steal.
Gareth froze completely.
By the time he recovered, Haizaki was already standing beyond the three-point line once again.
SWISH!
Gareth stared.
"…What's your name?"
"Beat me once, and I'll tell you."
"You—!"
The match ended the same way every time.
Three straight games.
Gareth never once got his answer.
As Haizaki left with Nijimura, he failed to realize something important.
Gareth was still standing there…
So frustrated that he nearly suffered internal bleeding from rage and disbelief.