Foundational Training: The Roots of the Phantom

The Teikō First Team Training Hall had yet to awaken, the vast space filled with the cool mingling of morning light and dust. As the first rays of sunlight pierced the high windows, casting long, slanted beams across the mirror-smooth wooden floor, Bai Ze You's figure was already standing in the center of the empty court. A sweat-soaked gray old T-shirt clung to his smooth, powerful back muscles, silver-gray hair tips stuck to his clean forehead by sweat, trembling slightly with each focused, repetitive movement.

Thump... thump... thump...

The dull sound of a basketball hitting the floor echoed rhythmically through the silent gym, like the most primal heartbeat. This was no stage for flashy tricks; this was the most tedious, most fundamental, and most unforgivable battlefield.

Low Post Hover Dribble: You's body was pressed extremely low, his center of gravity as solid as a boulder. The basketball seemed magnetically attached between his palm and the floor, each bounce steady below knee height, fast as the wind, dense as a sudden rain. His wrist moved like the most precise bearing, forearm muscles bulging, controlling the angle, force, and spin of every rebound. No fancy crossovers, only the purest honing of control. Sweat dripped continuously along his jawline, staining small dark patches on the floor.

Drag Step Lateral Defensive Movement: He imagined an invisible, lightning-fast opponent in front of him. Left foot pushed off, right foot quickly slid diagonally backward in a drag step, smoothly shifting his body's center of gravity sideways! The movement was swift and solid, the friction between shoe sole and floor producing a short, sharp squeak. The moment the slide ended, his core muscles instantly tensed, like a drawn bowstring, maintaining a perfect defensive stance without any wobble. Then, a reverse slide! Left foot dragged, right foot pushed! Repeating over and over, drawing invisible folded lines across the empty floor, like a tireless pendulum. Each slide accompanied by heavy, even breaths.

Continuous Crossover Step-Back Return: A marker cone was placed at each end of the court. You started from one end, sprinting at high speed while dribbling! The moment he neared the cone, his center of gravity suddenly dropped, and a continuous crossover dribble unfolded like a butterfly through flowers! Left crossover, right crossover, left crossover again! The basketball shuttled rapidly between his legs, each change accompanied by quick foot adjustments and precise center-of-gravity shifts! Rounding the cone without a pause, he immediately turned back! Sprint! Crossover again! Sweat had long soaked through his back, the T-shirt clinging to his skin, outlining the taut lines of muscles strained to the limit. His lungs worked like bellows, the hot air stinging his throat.

This was You's daily routine. Behind those dazzling between-the-legs passes, unbelievable reverse layups, and unpredictable feints lay countless mornings and evenings, foundations as tough as steel, watered by sweat. The roots of the Phantom were buried deep in this monotonous, day-after-day tempering.

Creak—

The heavy door of the training hall was pushed open, breaking the morning silence. Aomine Daiki rubbed his sleepy eyes, yawned, and walked in, his deep blue messy hair like a bird's nest. He glanced at the figure in the center of the court, drenched in sweat and repeating basic movements, and habitually curled his lips in undisguised contempt.

"Tch, these boring things again," he muttered, his voice not loud but clear in the empty gym. He didn't head toward You but grabbed a basketball on his own, walked to the basket on the other side, and began a powerful stationary dribble and jump-reach practice. Each bounce was like a heavy hammer on a drum, each leap carried wild explosive power, as if proclaiming the arrogance of talent and disdain for fundamentals.

You acted as if he hadn't heard the mocking mutter, not even lifting an eyelid. His gaze remained focused on the trajectory of each basketball bounce, on the precise landing points of his foot movements. His amber eyes held only the ball and the floor, calm as a deep pool. Aomine's disdain was like a breeze brushing a boulder, unable to shake him. He knew the gap between himself and physical monsters like Aomine and Murasakibara; only these clumsiest yet most reliable fundamentals could support his unique "Phantom" path, allowing him to find his own foothold amid the tide of talent.

Time passed in monotonous, heavy repetition. The angle of sunlight shifted quietly. More players gradually entered the training hall, noise replacing the morning silence. Regular team practice was about to begin.

You finally stopped his almost self-torturing basic drills. He walked to the sideline, grabbed a towel, and vigorously wiped the sweat from his face and neck, his chest heaving violently, each breath carrying a burning pain. He picked up a water bottle and drank deeply to replenish fluids. Just then, a breeze carrying the faint scent of cherry blossoms brushed by, accompanied by light footsteps.

"Bai Ze-kun! Good morning!"

You looked up. Momoi Satsuki was holding a thick blue folder, her cherry-pink ponytail swaying with her steps, a fresh smile like morning light on her fair cheeks, like a gentle breeze dispelling training fatigue. She quickly walked up to You, her bright cherry-pink eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Momoi-san, morning." You nodded, his voice slightly hoarse from exercise.

"Here!" Momoi presented the blue folder to You like a treasure, the cover bearing the elegant handwriting "Bai Ze You Exclusive Data Optimization Suggestions V1.0". "I reorganized and analyzed your recent training and match data last night, focusing on optimizing your Rhythm Model and Feint Deception Layer Evaluation! Plus, targeted breakthrough route simulations against Aomine-kun and Midori-kun's defensive habits!" Her words came fast, full of professional enthusiasm, her cherry-pink eyes shining as she looked at You, awaiting his reaction.

You took the folder with some surprise; it felt heavy in his hands. He opened the first page to find dense but clearly organized tables, trend charts, and scribbled yet precise tactical sketches. Every crossover speed, feint amplitude and eye-deception success rate, breakthrough route preference against different defensive intensities, even energy consumption curves... all were recorded in detail, analyzed, and given specific optimization directions. Beside them, notes in different colored pens read things like "Add 0.2 seconds of deception here for rhythm change" or "Left 45-degree cut-in success rate increases 5.7% against Midori's pressure."

This wasn't just a data report; it was a tailor-made "Phantom" training guide to a higher level! The dedication and professionalism made a warm current surge through You's heart, mixed with immense surprise and sincere gratitude.

"This... is too detailed. Thank you, Momoi-san." You's voice carried genuine thanks, his amber eyes reflecting Momoi's expectant smile.

"I'm glad it can help Bai Ze-kun!" Momoi's smile grew even brighter, like a blooming cherry blossom. "Oh, about those times yesterday when Murasakibara-kun blocked you in the low post, I reviewed the footage and found that when you used screens to cut in, your start timing was about 0.15 seconds slower than the optimal data model. That gave Murasakibara-kun enough reaction time to rotate! If you can start your burst half a step earlier the moment the screen forms..." She immediately entered her zone, pointing at a diagram in the folder, analyzing nonstop, professional terms tumbling out like a machine gun.

You listened seriously, nodding occasionally. Momoi's analysis precisely pinpointed the subtle flaws in his technique, those rhythm gaps he hadn't even clearly realized. He tried to simulate the earlier start Momoi suggested in his mind, feeling the tiny opportunity it might create to tear through Murasakibara's Wall of Sighs.

However, this focused and harmonious exchange once again pierced someone's eyes like a thorn.

"Hey! Satsuki!" Aomine Daiki's clearly irritated voice exploded nearby. He had just finished a set of violent dunks, chest heaving, drenched in sweat. His deep blue eyes, carrying the displeasure of being ignored and intense hostility, glared fiercely at You before turning to Momoi. "Where's my data report?! Did you analyze the force parameters of that dunk I had over Murasakibara in the last practice match?! And that Bai Ze guy's feint frequency fluctuation curve, have you updated it yet?!" His tone was full of commanding possessiveness and undisguised rejection of You.

Momoi's explanation stopped abruptly, her excited smile freezing on her face, then giving way to embarrassment and helplessness. She hurriedly closed the folder in You's hands. "Aomine-kun... your data is still being organized... Bai Ze-kun's was just finished last night..." she tried to explain.

"Hmph! Looks like your mind's all on the 'Phantom'!" Aomine interrupted impatiently, his tone sharp with obvious jealousy and provocation. "What good are these damn stats?! Is this how you play ball?!" He slapped the basketball in his hand irritably, producing a loud noise, then turned and walked to the sideline, leaving a low-pressure back.

The atmosphere on the sidelines instantly grew tense. Momoi lowered her head, her fair cheeks flushing with embarrassment, her fingers unconsciously twisting the edge of the folder. The warmth on You's face quickly faded, his amber eyes calmly watching Aomine's retreating figure, a hint of coldness flashing in their depths. He understood Aomine's competitiveness, but this indiscriminate venting of negative emotions, especially toward Momoi, displeased him.

"Sorry, Bai Ze-kun..." Momoi's voice carried apology.

"It's fine." You's voice returned to its usual calm. "His data is important." He paused, then added, "Your work is amazing."

Momoi looked up, her cherry-pink eyes carrying gratitude and rekindled light, nodding firmly. "Mm!"

Just then, Nijimura Shūzō's booming voice rang through the gym like a war drum: "Everyone, gather! Warm-up ended! Today, we focus on defensive rotations and paint help defense! Bai Ze! Aomine! Murasakibara! You three, over here!" He pointed to an area near the paint marked with tape.

Aomine walked over with a sour face, his deep blue eyes carrying residual anger, deliberately keeping distance from You. Murasakibara Atsushi slowly chewed on an Umaibo, his massive body like a moving mountain, his purple eyes half-open, looking half-asleep.

Nijimura pointed to a heavy, foam-padded human-shaped sandbag in the center of the area, simulating a tall interior defender (commonly called the "Opponent Wall"), and said in a deep voice, "Simple rules! Bai Ze, you start with the ball from the free-throw line. Goal is to break through the 'defender's' simulated block and score at the rim! Aomine, you're responsible for chasing down from the wing to disrupt! Murasakibara, you're at the rim for the final help block! I want to see real intensity! Got it?!"

This arrangement instantly lit the fuse!

Aomine's eyes burst with excited, malicious light! Finally, a legitimate chance to teach this annoying "Phantom" a lesson! He grinned fiercely, flexing his wrists. "Don't worry, Captain! I'll take 'good care' of him!"

Murasakibara yawned, mumbling vaguely, "...Trouble... hurry up..."

You's pupils contracted slightly. This was like placing him in a double kill zone of Aomine's wild pursuit and Murasakibara's Absolute Strength! The pressure was immense! But deep in his amber eyes, the settled calm was instantly ignited, blazing into burning fighting spirit! He took a deep breath, bent down, and picked up the basketball, the familiar graininess of his fingertips carrying a heavy weight.

"Start!" Nijimura commanded!

You held the ball at the free-throw line and instantly exploded! His first step, though not as violent as Aomine's, was still as fast as a cheetah! He charged straight at the "Opponent Wall" in the center of the paint!

Aomine, like ignited gunpowder, his deep blue figure carrying terrifying explosive power, instantly pounced from the wing! His strong body, with wild strength, brutally squeezed You's driving space! His massive hand, with a whistling wind, slashed viciously at the ball in You's hand! He wasn't disrupting; he was destroying!

Thud! A dull sound of muscle collision!

You felt a tremendous force surging from the side and rear! His whole body staggered! The ball nearly slipped from his hand! The pure physical gap was laid bare in that moment!

"Is that all you've got?!" Aomine grinned fiercely, his deep blue eyes burning with bloodthirsty excitement, his massive hand reaching for the ball again like an iron claw!

At the critical moment! You's slightly off-balance body once again displayed incredible resilience and control! Like a flexible willow branch, he "drifted" along the impact direction, but his right heel was like an iron stake welded to the floor, forcibly halting the momentum! At the same time, his left hand controlling the ball, like a venomous snake, lightning-fast pulled back in an extremely quick behind-the-back dribble! The ball narrowly slipped past Aomine's fingertips!

"Behind-the-back? Trying to run?!" Aomine roared, his massive body exploding with even more terrifying speed, sticking to You like a shadow! A huge shadow loomed!

Just as he was about to be completely entangled! You's sprinting body suddenly took a large step forward and to the left at high speed! His entire body leaned heavily left, his eyes sharp as they stabbed left, and the ball in his right hand was pushed exaggeratedly forward and left! A large, obvious leftward breakthrough feint!

Aomine's Wildness First Sense screamed a warning! His center of gravity was instantly fooled, his feet subconsciously shifting left!

The moment his center of gravity shifted! You's right wrist controlling the ball, as if vanishing, flicked extremely quickly! The ball traced a bizarre "V" trajectory in a tiny space, impossibly passing through his own crotch to his left hand! At the same time, his body, having fooled the opponent's center of gravity, used powerful core strength and explosive force, pivoting on his right foot in a lightning-fast, almost afterimage-leaving spin! In an instant, he slipped past Aomine's right side!

"Past?!"

Gasps rose from the sidelines!

However, the price of shaking off Aomine was immense! Yū's breakthrough path was forcibly diverted, and his speed had dropped from the sharp turn! Ahead, the violet figure like a primordial beast was already waiting in full force! Murasakibara Atsushi's massive body blocked every possible shooting angle! The terrifying pressure was like a solid wall! His huge hand spread open, carrying a lazy yet despair-inducing menace, waiting for him like swatting a fly!

Ahead, Murasakibara's giant palm sealed the sky!

Behind, Aomine chased like a mad beast!

A dead end!

In midair, Yū's pupils reflected Murasakibara's cold face and the sky-covering giant palm! Time seemed to stretch! The immense inertia carried him crashing into that wall of flesh! In those final fractions of a second, Yū's airborne body once again executed a move beyond its limits!

He didn't force a layup to clash head-on! His body arched backward impossibly in the air, folding! His powerful core strength and flexibility bought him precious hang time! At the same time, his left hand holding the ball, in a state of extreme twisting and near loss of balance, relied on muscle memory from countless practices and astonishing spatial awareness. With an incredibly soft flick of the wrist, he changed from a layup to a floater! The ball, with heavy backspin, followed a bizarre, low arc that nearly grazed Murasakibara's fingertips, perilously clearing the reach of that sky-covering palm!

"Shua!"

The crisp sound of the ball kissing the backboard and netting rang out!

"Good shot--!!" A wave of immense amazement swept the arena!

But!

"Boom!!!"

An even more muffled, heart-stopping impact exploded almost simultaneously!

Yū's body, folded and dodging at the limit in midair, collided head-on, without any cushion, with the massive frame of Aomine Daiki, who had charged in with full force like a wild bull and couldn't stop, right beneath the basket!

The immense impact force hit like an out-of-control truck! Yū's vision went black, and his internal organs felt instantly displaced! Like a kite with a broken string, his body completely twisted, he was slammed hard against the solid floor by the sheer force! Sharp pain shot through his back, shoulder, and the back of his head! The ball flew far out of his hands!

"Argh!" A stifled groan of pain escaped Yū's lips!

Aomine staggered back a few steps from the massive recoil before steadying himself. He stared blankly at Yū, curled up on the floor, twitching in pain. A flicker of shock and... a trace of barely perceptible panic? passed through his deep blue eyes. He hadn't expected the collision to be so violent!

"Bai Ze-kun!" Momoi Satsuki's scream carried a heart-wrenching terror. She shoved through the crowd and rushed onto the court without a care, her cherry-pink ponytail swinging wildly behind her, tears instantly streaming down her face!

Nijimura Shūzō's face turned ashen. He dashed to Yū's side in a single stride: "Team doctor! Now!"

The entire training hall fell into instant dead silence! All eyes focused on the silver-haired figure writhing in pain on the floor. The cheers from that stunning shot moments ago were instantly replaced by immense worry and fear.

Murasakibara Atsushi stood under the basket, his massive body looking somewhat dazed, even his chewing had stopped. Midōrima Shintarō adjusted his glasses; the gaze behind the lenses remained cold but seemed to freeze for a moment. Kuroko Tetsuya's sky-blue eyes widened slightly. Akashi Seijūrō's heterochromatic pupils also contracted a fraction, staring intently at the scene.

The team doctor sprinted in with a medical kit. Nijimura and another player carefully helped Yū up. A large patch of skin was scraped off his temple, blood seeping out and mixing with sweat, trickling down his cheek and staining the collar of his gray T-shirt. He gritted his teeth, his face pale, his amber eyes unfocused from the intense pain, but he still forced himself not to collapse.

"How is it? Where are you hurt?" Nijimura's voice carried rare urgency.

Yū breathed heavily, trying to move his arm and shoulder. A searing pain made him gasp, but the bones seemed fine. The worst pain was in his back and the side of his ribs, a burning sensation.

"Back... and ribs..." His voice was hoarse, laced with suppressed agony.

The team doctor quickly examined him: "Preliminary diagnosis is severe muscle contusion and soft tissue damage. There might be a minor hairline fracture. Need immediate ice and immobilization! Head to the medical room for a full check-up!"

Momoi Satsuki knelt beside Yū, her cherry-pink eyes brimming with tears. She bit her lower lip hard to keep from sobbing, her trembling hands holding a clean towel, carefully wiping the blood and sweat from Yū's temple, her movements as gentle as if handling fragile treasure. "Bai Ze-kun... does it hurt a lot..." Her voice was thick with tears.

Yū forced a faint, reassuring smile, though it was twisted by the pain. "It's... nothing..." His gaze passed over Momoi's worried face, swept across Aomine standing not far away, his expression complex with a hint of regret but still stubbornly tight-lipped, glanced at the indifferent Murasakibara, and finally landed on Nijimura's stern face.

"Captain... training..." He forced out a few words.

"Training my ass!" Nijimura cut him off roughly, his tone brooking no argument, "You're going to the medical room right now! That's an order!" He turned to the team doctor and the other player, "Help him up! Carefully!"

Supported by the team doctor and the player, Yū struggled to his feet. Every step pulled at the sharp pain in his back and ribs, forcing muffled groans from him, and his forehead was instantly covered in cold sweat. Momoi followed closely, her cherry-pink eyes full of heartache and helplessness, her hands clenched tightly together, knuckles white from the strain.

Just as they were about to leave the edge of the court, Yū paused. Fighting the intense pain, he slowly turned his head. Though his amber eyes were dimmed by the agony, deep within them, a sharp gleam like quenched ice pierced through the physical suffering, like a cold arrow, nailing itself firmly onto Aomine Daiki's face!

That look held no angry roar, no aggrieved accusation—only a chilling calmness and a silent warning, like the pressure before a volcanic eruption!

Aomine Daiki felt a chill from that stare! His deep blue pupils contracted sharply! He instinctively wanted to retort or mock, but the words died in his throat, blocked by the icy will in those eyes. An inexplicable chill, a sense of being seen through to his core, crept up his spine for the first time. He opened his mouth, but finally just clicked his tongue in irritation and turned his face away.

Yū withdrew his gaze. With support, step by step, extremely difficult yet unyieldingly firm, he left the training hall. That straight-backed figure, even bearing injury, stood like an unbending spear.

Momoi Satsuki followed closely, looking back every few steps, her cherry-pink eyes filled with worry and determination. She bent down and picked up the old basketball that had been knocked away, the one Yū always used, hugging it tightly to her chest as if it were the most precious thing.

Inside the training hall, the silence remained. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, illuminating the dark stain on the floor mixed with sweat and traces of blood, and also the complex expressions on everyone's faces. The Trial Ground of Teikō, where glory and thorns coexisted, and the foundation of the White Phantom, even amidst the pain, was still deeply rooted in this scorching ground, waiting for the next, even more dazzling bloom.