The venue for the Tokyo Metropolitan qualifiers of the National Junior High Basketball League roared like a boiling furnace. The immense noise, carrying the scents of sweat, rubber, and fervor, battered the eardrums of everyone who stepped onto this battlefield. Beams from the spotlights stabbed through the drifting dust like solid swords, converging on the polished wooden floor at center court. Teikō Junior High, a warship carrying countless glories and ambitions, was about to set sail beneath the eyes of the entire crowd.
Bai Ze You stood in the shadows of the players' tunnel, narrowing his eyes slightly as he adjusted to the sudden flood of blinding light. In his ears were deafening cheers and the orderly, oppressive battle cry of their opponents, Sannō Kōgyō. Sweat soaked through his brand-new Teikō red-and-white uniform, clinging to his smooth, taut muscles and outlining a figure ready to strike. His fingertips unconsciously touched the basketball's rough surface, its familiar texture bringing him a strange sense of calm. His amber eyes quietly swept over the stage that would soon belong to him. Deep within them, a flame called excitement quietly burned beneath a layer of cool ice.
"Nervous, Phantom Boy?" A teasing voice sounded beside him. Aomine Daiki chewed gum, his deep-blue eyes burning with undisguised bloodlust. His lips split into a feral grin, like a beast about to break out of its cage.
Yū did not look at him. He merely rolled his wrists and ankles, feeling the lingering soreness in his back muscles, like a brand that had not yet faded. It was a memento left behind by the brutal clash with Aomine and Murasaki-bara Atsushi several days earlier. Every time he exerted himself, the dull pain reminded him like an alarm of how merciless this battlefield was. He slowly exhaled a breath of scorching air and answered evenly, "I'm fine."
"Tch." Aomine snorted and looked away. His gaze locked onto several tall, fierce-looking players in the Sannō Kōgyō lineup like a hawk's. He licked his lips. "I hope they can keep me entertained for a while."
Nijimura Shūzō's tall figure appeared at the mouth of the tunnel. He turned around, his gaze sweeping over the gifted yet vastly different boys behind him like a searchlight. His powerful voice pierced the noise in the tunnel, carrying unquestionable authority and weighty trust:
"Remember what you're wearing! Teikō!"
"This court believes only in sweat and strength!"
"Show everyone what... Teikō's undefeated spirit means!"
"ROAR--!" Aomine was the first to let out a low roar, battle intent blazing in his deep-blue eyes. Murasaki-bara Atsushi yawned, but the drowsiness had faded from his purple eyes. Midōrima Shintarō pushed up his glasses, his gaze sharp as a blade behind the lenses. Akashi Seijūrō stood quietly to one side, his Heterochromatic Eyes calm and still like an unfathomable frozen pool. Kuroko Tetsuya remained quietly in the corner, like the least conspicuous shadow.
Yū clenched his fists until his knuckles turned faintly white. The pain in his back seemed to be suppressed by some stronger force at that moment. His amber eyes met Nijimura's, filled with tranquil focus and a silent promise.
"Take the court!" Nijimura waved his hand.
Teikō Junior High's starting five—Nijimura Shūzō (captain, PF), Aomine Daiki (SF), Midōrima Shintarō (SG), Akashi Seijūrō (PG), and Bai Ze You (SG/SF)—entered the battlefield of light like five drawn blades amid deafening cheers and Sannō Kōgyō's hostile battle cries.
The game began! Tip-off!
Murasaki-bara Atsushi's massive body exploded upward with astonishing speed. His enormous palm, broad as a fan, easily tipped the ball toward Akashi. Akashi caught it securely, his Heterochromatic Eyes instantly sweeping over the entire court and taking control of everything.
Sannō Kōgyō reacted with incredible speed! Their defense sprang into action like a school of sharks that had smelled blood, instantly launching their signature full-court press, "Killer Bees"! Two tall, swift players pounced on Akashi like bone-deep parasites. Their tremendous pressure became a tangible wall, trying to strangle Teikō's offense at its source.
Akashi calmly shielded the ball without forcing a drive. His eyes were the most precise radar, instantly catching a fleeting gap amid the opponent's frenzied trap. His wrist flicked! The basketball cut through the gap between the defenders like a scalpel, flying toward Yū, who had just shaken off his defender and settled at the right wing, thirty-five degrees out.
Yū caught the ball! Without the slightest pause, he launched like a cheetah that had long since stored up its strength. The explosive power of his First Step was so fast it tore through the air. He charged straight at Sannō Kōgyō's paint!
"Stop him!" Sannō Kōgyō's coach roared from the sideline.
The Sannō player guarding Yū—No. 5, tall with long arms and renowned for his vicious defense—immediately pressed in. At the same time, another Sannō player, No. 8, rapidly collapsed from the wing to help. A double-team! Like two moving walls, they sealed off every angle for Yū's drive and shot. Immense pressure crashed over him like a tsunami.
Gasps rose from the stands. Teikō's bench tensed as well. Aomine watched coldly from nearby, a hint of anticipation in his deep-blue eyes. Akashi's gaze remained calmly fixed on Yū, trapped in the double-team.
Facing the two walls of flesh closing in, Yū's sprinting body suddenly took a huge step toward the front left at high speed. His entire body leaned sharply left, his eyes stabbing down the left lane, while his right hand thrust the ball exaggeratedly toward the front left. It was an enormous, blatantly obvious Fake Move to drive left.
No. 5's nerves tightened instantly. The angle of the lowered shoulder, the focus of the eyes, the hint of the foot beginning to move... It was too convincing. His center of gravity almost instinctively shifted half a step left to seal the lane.
At the instant his weight shifted, Yū's right wrist, controlling the ball, flicked with such speed that it seemed to vanish. Within that tiny space, the basketball traced a strange V-shaped path, unbelievably passing between his legs and into his left hand. At the same time, his body, which had drawn the defender's weight off balance, used his powerful waist, abdomen, and core to pivot on his right foot and perform an astonishingly swift Spin Move, leaving behind only an afterimage.
"A nutmeg?! A spin move crossover?!"
"So fast!"
The startled cries exploded.
No. 5's vision blurred as a gust swept past his side. By the time he tried to recover his balance, Yū had already slipped completely past his right side. No. 8, helping from the right, was momentarily delayed because No. 5's balance had been deceived, and his attempt to block came half a beat too late.
One step!
Using the gap created in that flash and his own explosive power, Yū forced his way through the space between the two defenders. Only the open basket remained before him.
"Don't even think about it!" A roar erupted beneath the basket. Sannō Kōgyō's center, No. 15—nearly two meters tall and built like an iron tower—had been waiting. His massive body leaped, his huge palm blotting out the sky. Terrifying pressure descended like a tangible gravity field. He swore to smash this arrogant newcomer down.
In midair, Yū's pupils reflected No. 15's savage face and enormous blocking hand. Time seemed to freeze. Inertia carried him upward, and he was about to collide with that deadly palm. In the final fraction of a second, his airborne body made another move beyond its limits.
He did not force a confrontation. His body twisted and folded violently toward the left in midair. His powerful core and astonishing flexibility granted him precious hang time. At the same time, while his body was severely contorted and his vision completely blocked, his ball-holding right hand relied on muscle memory forged through countless repetitions and an incredible sense of space to give the ball a soft, hidden flick.
The ball did not fly straight toward the basket. Instead, it traced an extraordinarily strange arc with heavy sidespin, as though given life, unbelievably curving around the outer edge of No. 15's enormous blocking palm. At an incredible angle, nearly brushing the outside of his arm and grazing the edge of the backboard, it spun toward the hoop.
"Swish!"
An almost inaudible brush of the net sounded. The basketball bounced twice on the front rim and finally, with extreme reluctance... rolled into the net.
"WHAA--!!!" The entire gym erupted in thunderous astonishment and cheers. The first basket of the game! So dazzling! So extreme! Under a double-team and absolute height disadvantage, he had torn open the defense with a nutmeg spin move, then finished with an unbelievable aerial fold and wraparound shot! This was more than a basket. It was an artistic display of skill—a declaration of talent!
"Bai Ze You--!!!" Teikō's bench erupted. The players jumped up excitedly and waved their towels.
"Phantom! White Phantom!" The nickname that had just been born began to echo through the stands.
Yū landed, staggering slightly from the extreme aerial evasion and twisted exertion. Sharp pain shot through the injured part of his back like an electric current, forcing a muffled groan from him as his face paled for an instant. But he quickly steadied himself without celebrating. He merely breathed lightly, his amber eyes sweeping over the scoreboard—2:0—before coldly glancing at the astonished Sannō center beneath the basket. The corner of his mouth lifted into an extremely faint yet unmistakably provocative curve.
On the sideline, Aomine Daiki grinned with an even wilder smile full of recognition and clapped his hands hard. "Not bad, Phantom!" It was the acknowledgment of a beast.
Akashi Seijūrō stood still. Deep beneath his Heterochromatic Eyes, an almost imperceptible ripple passed beneath the frozen surface of a lake. He gave a slight nod, like an emperor silently commending a subject's excellent performance.
In the front row, Momoi Satsuki nearly jumped with excitement. Her cherry-pink ponytail swung violently, her fair cheeks flushed bright red, and her cherry-pink eyes shone like stars. She hugged her Shorthand Notebook tightly while waving her other hand in the air. "Did you see that?! Did you see it?! The success rate of breaking through a double-team with a nutmeg spin move was one hundred percent! The aerial evasion angle was twenty-eight degrees leftward! The wraparound shot's spin rate was S-class! The estimated distance from his fingertips was less than one centimeter! Perfect data! The perfect Phantom First Dance!" she shouted at the equally excited substitute beside her, completely immersed in the ecstasy of data and shock.
However, that ecstasy was instantly replaced by heart-wrenching fear. She had seen Yū stagger and turn pale for that brief moment upon landing. "Bai Ze-kun's injury..." Her heart leaped into her throat. Worry filled her cherry-pink eyes as both hands clenched the Shorthand Notebook, her knuckles whitening.
The game continued. Sannō Kōgyō was somewhat dazed by that opening hammer blow, but they soon regrouped, relying on solid inside offense and tenacious defense to cling to the score. Under Akashi's icy direction, Teikō's offensive machine continued to operate methodically.
Aomine's savage roar: During a fast break, Aomine swept across the court like black lightning. Facing two Sannō defenders, he brutally forced open space, twisted in midair, and slammed down a powerful tomahawk dunk. The basket frame groaned in pain. His deep-blue figure hung from the rim, unleashing a deafening roar and proclaiming the rule of primal strength.
Midōrima's deadly arc: During a half-court possession, Midōrima received Akashi's pass in the right corner. Without the slightest adjustment, he bent his knees, lowered his waist, raised the ball, and released it. The motion was a perfect textbook reproduction. The basketball traced a flawless, despair-inducing high arc and dropped cleanly through the net, precise as a missile. The cold sniper never missed.
Murasaki-bara's Wall of Sighs: Sannō Kōgyō's ace center tried to overpower the paint, using footwork to shake off Nijimura before going up for a layup. A massive purple palm descended like the hand of a heavenly giant, carrying suffocating pressure as it swatted both ball and player away. Murasaki-bara Atsushi landed lazily and yawned. "...What a pain." Inside the paint, he alone reigned supreme.
And Bai Ze You moved like a white ghost gliding across the battlefield. He no longer insisted on forcing his way into the paint, instead blending his talent perfectly with the team.
Phantom without the ball: He used elite off-ball movement and convincing Fake Moves to tear apart Sannō's perimeter defense again and again. On one play, he faked a cut after a backdoor run, received Akashi's exquisite bounce pass at the baseline, and scored an easy layup.
Scalpel Pass: Facing Sannō's tight double-teams, he used his extraordinary vision and the unique passing angles granted by his flexibility to deliver one unbelievable assist after another. On one play, he sent a no-look bounce pass behind his back. It sliced through three defenders like a scalpel and found Nijimura cutting to the basket, assisting his powerful dunk.
Sniper Three: When Sannō, wary of his drives, collapsed its defense, he caught the ball at the top of the arc and shot without the slightest hesitation. The basketball traced a graceful arc and dropped cleanly through the net. His soft touch and stable core made his three-point shot another lethal weapon.
Every touch, every basket, and every assist was accompanied by increasingly thunderous cheers of "Phantom! Phantom!" from the stands. His figure darted across the court, silver-gray hair glittering beneath the spotlights. His convincing Fake Moves deceived the opponents' eyes and nerves, while his unbelievable flexibility and balance revealed themselves again and again in the clashes. His passes were precisely guided. White Phantom's dance steps bloomed beneath the spotlights of an official game for the first time, shining with dazzling brilliance.
The halftime whistle sounded. On the scoreboard, glaring numbers flashed: Teikō Junior High 58 : 30 Sannō Kōgyō! The enormous gap stood like an uncrossable chasm.
The Teikō players headed toward the locker room. Nijimura Shūzō clapped Yū firmly on the shoulder, undisguised approval on his resolute face. "Good work! Bai Ze! How's your back? Can you hold on?"
Yū nodded, fine beads of sweat covering his forehead. The pain in his back clung to him like a parasite during the intense clashes, but his amber eyes remained bright. "No problem, Captain."
Aomine Daiki walked over and looked Yū up and down, a trace of awkward concern in his deep-blue eyes. "Hey, don't force yourself! If you drag us down in the second half, I won't let you off!" His tone remained harsh, but the hostility from before had faded.
Akashi Seijūrō's gaze passed over Yū's slightly pale face. His Heterochromatic Eyes remained completely unruffled, and his voice was calm yet carried undeniable force. "Reduce your forced drives in the second half. Your ability to draw defenders and your passing are more valuable." It was a tactical order from the future emperor.
Yū nodded calmly. "Understood."
Just then, a clear voice filled with urgency rang out. "Bai Ze-kun!"
Momoi Satsuki came running over, carrying a first-aid kit and gasping for breath. Her cherry-pink ponytail was slightly disheveled, and worried sweat covered her fair cheeks. Ignoring everyone around her, she rushed straight to Yū, her cherry-pink eyes full of concern. "Quick! Let me see your back! That hit just now..." Without giving him a chance to refuse, she pushed Yū down onto the bench and swiftly took out an ice pack and spray.
The cool spray and ice pack touched the burning muscles of his back, bringing relief after a brief sting. Yū inhaled softly. Momoi's fingers trembled faintly as she carefully treated the obvious bruises on his back and ribs, her movements as gentle as feathers brushing across him. As she worked, she spoke rapidly in a low voice thick with a nasal tone. "The first-half data... Fake Move success rate, 71.3%! Drive-and-kick efficiency, league S-class! Off-ball movement defensive-tearing index, A+! But... the physical-contact load has already reached the critical limit! Especially the impact points on your back and ribs..." Her voice was filled with professional anxiety and concern for his injuries.
Yū turned his head slightly and saw tiny droplets clinging to her lowered eyelashes, whether sweat or tears she was forcing herself to hold back. Her undisguised concern flowed into his heart like a warm current, washing away some of the pain. He said softly, "Thank you, Momoi. I'm fine."
The second half began. Sannō Kōgyō, like a wounded beast, launched an even more savage counterattack. Their defensive movements grew increasingly violent and charged with hostility. During one rebound battle, Sannō's No. 15 center secretly drove his elbow hard into the injured part of Yū's back while fighting for position.
"Ugh!" A piercing pain exploded through Yū's back. His vision went black, and his body staggered forward uncontrollably before dropping heavily to one knee. Beads of cold sweat instantly covered his forehead.
"Bastard!" Aomine was the first to roar and rush over. He seized No. 15 by the collar, furious flames burning in his deep-blue eyes. The referee's sharp whistle rang out.
On the sideline, Momoi Satsuki suddenly covered her mouth. Tears filled her cherry-pink eyes, and her heart felt as though it had been seized in a fist. "Bai Ze-kun!" she screamed, trying desperately to rush onto the court, only to be held back by a substitute who grabbed her tightly.
Akashi Seijūrō's Heterochromatic Eyes turned icy in an instant, like ice that had endured ten thousand years. Nijimura Shūzō's face turned livid as he furiously roared at the referee.
Yū knelt on the floor, breathing violently. The pain in his back was so intense that he could barely breathe. Sweat mixed with dust and slid down his pale cheeks. He clenched his teeth so tightly that his gums even began to bleed. His amber eyes were unfocused from the agony, but deep within them, a will like ice tempered in fire burned furiously.
He refused the team doctor's immediate request that he leave the court. Beneath Nijimura's and his teammates' worried gazes, he gritted his teeth and used his trembling arms to support himself, standing up with extreme difficulty one step at a time. His waist and back remained ramrod straight, like an unyielding spear. His cold gaze swept over the provocatively grinning No. 15, then over the scoreboard—Teikō 88:50 Sannō. The corner of his mouth curled into a cold, decisive arc tinged with the scent of blood.
The game continued. Time passed second by second. The enormous deficit drove Sannō Kōgyō completely irrational. Their defensive movements grew even rougher, the referee's whistle sounded repeatedly, and the game became fragmented.
With two minutes left before the final whistle, Teikō had possession. Akashi dribbled the ball into the frontcourt. Their huge lead had already made the result certain. Sannō Kōgyō's defense had slackened as well, their eyes filled with despair and exhaustion.
Akashi's gaze swept over the court before finally settling on Bai Ze You, half-open at the right side of the arc. A faint, almost imperceptible glimmer passed through his Heterochromatic Eyes. His wrist flicked, and the ball flew toward Yū with precise calculation.
Yū caught the ball. The Sannō defender in front of him spread his arms half-heartedly, his center of gravity loose. The eyes of the entire gym focused on him. The cry of "Phantom" rose again from the stands, filled with anticipation. Everyone expected the dazzling newcomer to end this overwhelming victory with a brilliant solo performance.
Aomine opened a hand for the ball in the low post. Midōrima prepared to receive and shoot on the opposite side. Everyone assumed Yū would use a signature Fake Move to shake off his defender before launching another spectacular drive or shot.
Yū dribbled slowly. The pain in his back clung to him like a parasite, and every breath tugged at the dull ache between his ribs. Sweat dripped constantly from his chin. His amber eyes calmly swept over the defender before him, the basket, and finally... discreetly glanced toward the shadow in the left corner that almost everyone had overlooked. Kuroko Tetsuya stood there like the quietest ghost, his sky-blue eyes calmly returning Yū's gaze.
A silent understanding passed between them.
He moved!
Yū's upper body suddenly swayed left. The motion was not large, but every detail was convincing. His sharp gaze stabbed toward the left lane—a Fake Move pretending to drive or pass.
The defender's center of gravity was instantly deceived. Attention on the sideline was drawn over as well.
At the instant that weight shifted, Yū's right wrist, controlling the ball, flicked so swiftly it seemed to vanish. The basketball did not fly toward any direction meant to attract attention. Instead, it traced a low, rapid line like a venomous snake skimming the floor, passing unbelievably through the gap between the defender's instinctively closing legs. Nutmeg Pass!
The target—the left corner. Kuroko Tetsuya!
As the ball passed through the gap between the defenders, the Sannō player guarding Kuroko once again suffered that fatal, induced moment of distraction.
The ball reached Kuroko's hands with perfect precision, as though they had rehearsed it a thousand times.
Kuroko caught it! Without the slightest pause, his wrist flicked.
The basketball became a precisely guided missile, instantly crossing the open paint and tracing a perfect arc.
"Swish--!"
A crisp, heavenly clean-net sound rang out. A three-pointer!
"Whoa--!!!" After a brief silence, the entire gym erupted in even more violent astonishment and cheers than before. It was not a display of individual heroism, but the result of that unbelievable Nutmeg Pass and the ghostly, lethal three-point connection. Phantom and Ghost completed the most dazzling curtain call beneath the eyes of the entire crowd.
"Phantom-Ghost Connection--!!!" The commentator's voice cracked with excitement.
The scoreboard changed: Teikō Junior High 101 : 50 Sannō Kōgyō! Over a hundred!
The final whistle sounded like heaven's music.
"Teikō! Teikō! Teikō!" A tsunami of cheers swept through the entire gym. Red-and-white waves surged across the stands.
Nijimura Shūzō was the first to rush onto the court. His iron-clamp-like hand smacked Yū hard on the back, avoiding the injured area. Excitement and relief filled his resolute face. "Beautifully done, kid! First match, first victory!"
The violent pain forced a muffled groan from Yū, but his face blossomed into his first truly clear and radiant smile since stepping onto the court. Sweat, dust, and even a trace of blood mingled across his face, yet could not conceal the joy and relief burning in his amber eyes. He had done it! Beneath pain and pressure, he had completed the stunning first dance of the White Phantom.
Aomine Daiki charged over laughing and vigorously tousled Yū's silver-gray hair. "Nice pass, Phantom!" This time, his approval came from the heart.
Midōrima Shintarō pushed up his glasses and gave Yū a slight nod. Murasaki-bara Atsushi chewed on an Umaibo and mumbled indistinctly, "...Not bad." It counted as rare praise.
Akashi Seijūrō walked up to Yū and calmly looked at him with his Heterochromatic Eyes. The corner of his mouth seemed to lift into an almost imperceptible curve—cold, yet approving. He said nothing, merely extending his hand and giving Yū a firm handshake. An emperor's approval needed no words.
Kuroko Tetsuya quietly walked over to Yū. A barely perceptible smile colored his sky-blue eyes as he gently nodded. "That was a good pass, Bai Ze-kun."
Yū looked at these teammates, each with a different personality and extraordinary talent, and felt the deafening cheers filling the gym. Even the pain in his back seemed to lessen. An unprecedented warmth called belonging and glory surged through his chest.
Just then, a voice filled with tears yet overflowing with excitement rang out distinctly through the cheers. "Bai Ze-kun--!" Momoi Satsuki broke through the crowd like a pink whirlwind and threw herself in front of Yū. Her cherry-pink ponytail had long since come loose, tear tracks remained on her fair cheeks, and her cherry-pink eyes were filled with immense joy and relief, as if she had found something she had lost. She had completely forgotten the eyes around her and all restraint, gripping Yū's arm tightly as though afraid he would disappear the next second.
"Thank goodness! Really, thank goodness!" Her voice was thick with a nasal tone, and tears once again spilled uncontrollably, this time from overwhelming joy. "The data... I saw all of it! It was amazing! The Phantom First Dance... perfect!" She rambled incoherently, clutching the Shorthand Notebook to her chest like a priceless trophy.
Yū looked at the face before him, tear-streaked yet blooming with an incredibly radiant smile. He felt the faint tremor in her fingertips and her unreserved concern and joy. Deep within his amber eyes, the flame of victory quietly settled into a deeper, warmer glow. He raised his uninjured left hand, hesitated, then finally placed it gently atop Momoi's disheveled cherry-pink hair, rubbing it softly with a faint, almost imperceptible tremble.
"Mm." Yū's voice was low and gentle, carrying a trace of hoarseness. "Thank you, Momoi." His gaze passed over the corner of the Shorthand Notebook dampened by sweat, then returned to her shining eyes. "Without your data... without everyone's trust... this victory wouldn't have been possible."
Momoi's body stiffened slightly before she nodded even harder. Tears rolled down her cheeks like pearls from a broken string, yet her face blossomed with a smile brighter and purer than sunlight. She said nothing more, merely gripping Yū's arm tightly, as though trying to pass her strength to him and share the pain in his back.
The spotlights shone like stage lights, enveloping the spirited boys at center court. Nijimura Shūzō's booming laughter, Aomine's wild roar, Midōrima's calm adjustment of his glasses, Murasaki-bara's lazy chewing, Akashi's tranquil gaze, Kuroko's quiet smile... and, amid the glory woven from sweat, tears, and cheers, Phantom and his data manager standing close together.
On the scoreboard, the blazing red 101 burned like a flame, announcing the opening of a new chapter for the Teikō Dynasty. It also announced that the name White Phantom had, for the first time, resounded across the entire court with undeniable force. And the Phantom's dance steps had only just struck their first earth-shaking note.
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