Newcomer Selection: The Supple Dance

The uproar in the gym had yet to fully die down. The shockwave from Bai Ze You's astonishing game-winning shot still trembled faintly through the air. Sweat dampened the tips of his silver-gray hair and clung to his smooth forehead. His chest rose and fell slightly with each breath, but his amber eyes had already returned to their usual calm, as if the person who had just escaped three defenders at the limits of possibility and finished the play had not been him at all.

"Bai Ze-kun! That was amazing!" Kobayashi's face flushed with excitement as he slapped Yū's shoulder. "How did you make that last shot? I thought you were going to crash into them!"

"Yeah, yeah! That spin... and the twist in midair... It was practically acrobatics!" Takahashi waved his arms beside them, his eyes full of admiration.

Yū merely tugged at the corner of his mouth, forming a faint curve that could barely be called a smile. "I got lucky." His answer was brief. He bent down and picked up the basketball that had rolled across the floor, his fingertips instinctively feeling its familiar grain. The joy of victory flashed through his heart, only to be replaced by an even deeper yearning. This is only the beginning. Teikō's threshold is far higher than this.

His gaze swept unobtrusively across the sidelines. Nijimura Shūzō's tall, powerfully built figure still stood there, his sharp gaze like a searchlight moving over every impressive newcomer on the court—including him. That look was no longer mere scrutiny. It held the burning interest of someone who had discovered a new continent, as though he were assessing a freshly unearthed ore with its edge exposed. Yū could even feel the weight of that gaze when it rested on him: scrutiny, certainly, but also silent approval and expectation.

Yet another gaze carried an entirely different presence, like tangible thorns firmly piercing his back. Yū did not need to turn around to pinpoint its source: the shadows at the entrance to the second-floor stands. The dark-blue-haired figure with the dusky skin had not left. Aomine Daiki stood with his arms folded, casually leaning against the wall, his posture carrying an animalistic languor. But his deep-blue eyes were like a hawk's locked onto prey—sharp, direct, and filled with undisguised curiosity and an almost primal desire to challenge. That gaze pierced through the gaps in the crowd, burning hot as it branded itself onto Yū.

Yū did not immediately answer that aggressive stare. He calmly turned around and naturally lifted his head, as though merely loosening his neck. Their gazes met in midair. There were no words and no expressions, only silent currents colliding. The corner of Aomine's mouth seemed to rise again, revealing an even wilder, more provocative smile. Deep in Yū's amber pupils, a nearly imperceptible glimmer quietly ignited, like lava churning beneath a sleeping volcano, before being covered by an even deeper calm. He gave a slight nod—a tiny, emotionless movement that seemed to say: I saw you.

The brief rest ended. The upperclassman in charge of the selection blew a sharp whistle, his voice carrying unquestionable authority.

"Newcomers who passed the first round of one-on-one competition, gather at center court immediately! Next up is the basic physical fitness test!"

The atmosphere tightened once more. Every newcomer who remained was no ordinary player, and now they were all raring to go. Physical testing was basketball's cruelest touchstone. It did not care about flashy technique, only one's most fundamental endurance, explosive power, and willpower. It stripped away every dazzling exterior and laid the quality of one's talent bare.

First event: shuttle runs. From one baseline to the other, ten consecutive sprints. Speed was required, but so was supreme control over the body with every sudden stop and turn.

The whistle blew! More than a dozen figures shot forward like arrows loosed from their strings, while the wooden floor let out a harsh groan beneath the violent friction of their shoes. Yū was not the fastest off the mark, but his rhythm was exceptionally steady. Every time he reached the end of a sprint, his astonishing flexibility and core strength came into view. Where others needed one or two extra steps to stop and turn, he seemed able to absorb and convert his raging momentum in an instant. His body twisted impossibly within the tiniest space. With a tap of his toe, he sprang in the opposite direction like a compressed spring, wasting as little energy as possible and achieving maximum efficiency. His movements flowed as if inertia itself offered no resistance. Every turn carried a unique sense of rhythm, as though he was not undergoing a test but performing an elegant dance. After several rounds, the opponents who had possessed astonishing initial bursts were already breathing heavily, their steps growing labored. Yū's speed, however, had barely declined. He maintained that steady, heart-stirring rhythm.

From the sidelines, Nijimura Shūzō's gaze remained fixed on Yū almost the entire time. He saw it more clearly than anyone. "Amazing hip flexibility and core stability... His explosive power may not be the absolute best, but his efficiency in converting momentum in that instant... and his Absolute Control over his body... He's practically a machine born for basketball!" he murmured, his eyes flashing. The ability to make minute adjustments to one's posture at high speed was precisely the talent top-tier slashers and defenders dreamed of. It could avoid collisions, create tiny shooting windows, and bring the deception of a Fake Move to its utmost level!

Second event: dynamic footwork agility. The players had to complete designated combinations through a complicated ladder pattern at the fastest possible speed.

It was the ultimate test of coordination, rhythm, and instantaneous reaction speed. The newcomers moved through the maze like travelers lost in a labyrinth, their footwork chaotic, with no shortage of stumbles. When it was Yū's turn, he drew a deep breath and stepped into the ladder. His body seemed to lose its weight, yet also seemed to be precisely controlled by invisible threads. Front crossovers, rear crossovers, slides, single-leg hops... Every complicated combination flowed beneath his feet as naturally as instinct carved into his bones. Each step landed precisely inside a ladder square, while his center of gravity shifted smoothly at high speed without a single unnecessary wobble. His movements were so fast they almost left afterimages, yet so clear they resembled slow-motion playback, filled with control precise to the millimeter. More astonishingly, he did not complete the movements mechanically. At high speed, he naturally added tiny Rhythm Changes. Every pause and acceleration came at exactly the right moment, as though he were performing a footwork fantasia that only he could hear.

"A monster..." A newcomer who had finished the test and was gasping for breath could not help muttering the curse as he watched Yū's light-footed figure, though his tone was filled with helplessness.

"That sense of balance... He's like a cat dancing on ice..." another newcomer murmured, his eyes filled with nothing but astonishment.

The upperclassmen exchanged glances, and each saw seriousness and a trace of excitement in the others' eyes. Teikō needed geniuses, and what the silver-haired boy before them displayed was a talent utterly different from Aomine's explosive power and Murasaki-bara's Absolute Strength-based physical domination—a talent brimming with technique and the aesthetics of bodily control.

Third event: core strength and endurance—planks.

Time passed second by second. Sweat streamed like rivulets from every newcomer's forehead, neck, and back, gathering into small puddles on the polished floor. Arms began to tremble uncontrollably, while waists and abdomens burned as though seared by hot irons. Every breath tugged at aching muscles, and willpower tottered before the pain at its limit. One, two, three... One after another, players could no longer hold on. Their bodies slammed heavily onto the floor with dull thuds, leaving behind only bellows-like breathing.

Yū's body was likewise taut as a bowstring. Sweat soaked through his Red and White Training Uniform and clung to the smooth lines of his muscles. His arms trembled faintly too, but his amber eyes remained fixed on a tiny line in the floor ahead, his concentration frighteningly intense. The deep muscles of his core, abdomen, and back were like the toughest alloy springs, continuously and steadily outputting strength beneath the enormous pressure to maintain his nearly perfect horizontal posture. His breathing was hurried, yet it kept an odd, deep rhythm. Every inhalation seemed to pour strength back into his failing muscles. Time appeared to pass especially slowly around him. When the last struggling newcomer finally admitted defeat, Yū was the only one left, and the entire gym's attention focused on him. The upperclassman looked at the stopwatch, surprise and approval appearing in his eyes.

"All right! Time's up! Full marks!" the upperclassman finally called, with a trace of barely perceptible respect in his voice.

Yū's taut body suddenly relaxed. He slowly lowered himself under control, as though his bones had been removed, and lay facedown with his forehead against the cool floor, drawing deep breaths. Every inhalation carried a burning ache, but the corner of his mouth curled into a satisfied smile. He had done it. In the pure contest of willpower and endurance, he had been the last one standing.

At the sidelines, Nijimura Shūzō gave a slight nod. The results of the basic physical fitness test had confirmed his initial judgment. Bai Ze You possessed more than dazzling technique. He also had severely underestimated physical capital to support it: top-tier flexibility, top-tier core stability, and top-tier coordination and balance! In elite competition, these qualities often tipped the scales of victory more decisively than simple running and jumping ability.

After a brief rest and some water, the selection entered its final—and most brutal—stage: a full-court 5v5 scrimmage. This was no longer a showcase of an individual skill or physical attribute, but a comprehensive test of overall strength, on-the-spot judgment, teamwork, and even the will to win. The newcomers were scattered at random and regrouped.

Yū looked around, surveying his new teammates. One was short but built like a compact cannon, with sharp eyes; another was tall, lean, and agile, with an astonishing wingspan. On the opposing side stood the blond newcomer whom he had humiliated with a nutmeg in the 3v3 match—Watanabe. He was glaring at Yū with a look mixed with resentment and wariness. Even more startling, Yū saw an exceptionally tall and powerfully built figure on the opposing team, nearly a head taller than everyone else, like a silent little mountain—Murasaki-bara Atsushi! His lazy purple eyes were half-lidded, as if he could not muster much interest in anything around him. He casually chewed on an Umaibo he had brought along, but his massive frame and unconsciously radiating pressure made everyone who approached him feel their breathing catch.

The whistle rang out like a starting gun!

The scrimmage's intensity instantly rose to another level. Murasaki-bara Atsushi was a mobile Wall of Sighs. As long as he stood beneath the basket, he practically declared absolute dominion over the paint. Yū's cannon-like teammate, Ishida, tried several times to attack the rim, only to be casually swatted away by Murasaki-bara's seemingly careless giant hand like a fly. He went tumbling down in a miserable heap, ball and all. The overwhelming difference in strength was despairing.

"Tch..." Ishida rubbed his numb arm, his expression grim. The paint had been completely sealed off.

Possession changed hands. Watanabe brought the ball up, and a flash of viciousness crossed his eyes when he saw Yū guarding him. Having learned from the previous lesson, he no longer allowed himself to be fooled easily by Fake Moves. Using a stronger teammate as a screen, he forced open space, then changed direction and accelerated, intent on overpowering Yū!

However, at the instant Watanabe drove his shoulder forward for a hard collision, Yū displayed an astonishing Roll-off Teique. He did not resist head-on. Instead, he followed the force of the impact, his entire body drifting backward like a supple willow branch and cleverly shedding most of the collision's momentum. At the same time, his left hand, pressed against Watanabe's body, shot out like a venomous snake. His fingertips struck precisely beneath the basketball Watanabe had just bounced up.

Smack!

The basketball instantly slipped out of control!

"Steal!" someone shouted from the sidelines.

Watanabe felt his hand close on empty air. He turned back in shock, only to see Yū's silver-gray figure sweep past his side like a phantom, seize the loose ball, and race toward the opposing half at full speed! A fast-break counterattack!

"Stop him!" Watanabe howled furiously.

The fastest player to get back on defense immediately moved to intercept him, spreading his arms to slow Yū down. In the middle of his high-speed sprint, Yū suddenly made an extremely convincing feinting lunge toward the front left. The defender's center of gravity was instantly deceived!

At the moment his balance shifted, Yū's right wrist flicked like a serpent. Within an incredibly small space, the ball traced a bizarre V-shaped path and somehow passed from behind his own back into his left hand! At the same time, the body that had baited the defender's balance pivoted on Yū's left foot, executing an unbelievably swift Spin Move. The defender's vision blurred. A gust swept past his side. By the time he adjusted his balance and tried to pursue, Yū was already far beyond reach!

"A behind-the-back dribble into a spin! So fast!"

"Those slippery moves again!"

Yū shook off his defender, and only open court remained ahead. He did not slow down, charging straight for the basket! Yet just as he rose into the air and prepared for an easy layup, a massive shadow spread over the entire hoop like a storm cloud. Murasaki-bara Atsushi! At some point, he had sprinted back from the other side. His huge body had arrived first despite leaving later, soaring high like a meteor and blotting out the sky. His terrifying reach and enormous hands sealed nearly every possible shooting angle. The crushing pressure crashed over Yū like a tangible wave and swallowed him whole!

"We're done! He's going to get blocked!" Kobayashi cried from the sideline. Everyone seemed to see the image of the ball being ruthlessly swatted away.

In midair, Yū's pupils suddenly contracted. Murasaki-bara's enormous figure filled his entire field of vision, blocking every conventional shooting route. Time seemed to stretch. His body continued rising under its tremendous inertia, and he was about to collide with that wall of flesh. At that instant, in that hair's-breadth moment, Yū's beyond-common-sense flexibility and powerful core strength erupted once again!

His originally extended layup posture forcibly changed in midair. His waist and abdomen twisted as if an invisible hand had violently wrung them, and his entire body folded sharply to the left, curling in on itself. His incredible Air Time Ability bought him a precious fraction of a second in the air. At the same time, despite his extreme distortion and loss of balance, his right hand pressed sharply downward, relying on muscle memory forged through countless repetitions and an almost instinctive feel for the ball. He changed the layup into a floater. Spinning hard backward, the ball traveled along an extremely strange, almost ground-parallel low arc that skimmed Murasaki-bara's fingertips and narrowly escaped the shadow of his towering palm.

Murasaki-bara's fingertips could even feel the disturbance in the air caused by the ball's rapid spin!

Swish!

The basketball gently brushed the backboard, spun, and dropped into the net!

"Great shot—!!!" The entire gym erupted in even more intense shouts and cheers than before! That shot had been impossibly close! Under Murasaki-bara Atsushi's absolute height advantage, Yū had scored through unbelievable flexibility and midair adjustment ability!

"Whoa... It almost touched..." Murasaki-bara landed and looked at the rolling ball, seeming somewhat surprised. For the first time, his lazy purple eyes opened fully as they settled on Yū, who had just landed, carrying a trace of confusion and scrutiny. Even his chewing paused for a moment.

Yū staggered slightly upon landing. The extreme midair evasion and twisted exertion had nearly drained the strength from his waist and abdomen. He steadied himself without celebrating, merely breathing a little harder. His amber eyes, however, shone with startling brightness as he looked straight at Murasaki-bara Atsushi's massive body without the slightest retreat.

"Interesting..." Murasaki-bara muttered. His voice was low and indistinct, but some of the languor in his eyes had faded.

The rest of the game became a full display of Yū's individual talent colliding with Murasaki-bara Atsushi's Absolute Strength. Using his teammates' screens, Yū constantly roamed the perimeter. His off-ball movement was just as deceptive. Every back cut and change of direction was executed with extreme realism, sending the defenders spinning in circles. Once he received a pass, his unfathomable Fake Moves and driving skills became even more effective in the open court. Against the paint guarded by Murasaki-bara, he stopped forcing his way in. Instead, he used his extraordinary balance and feel for floaters to repeatedly sink difficult pull-up fadeaways and quick floaters near the free-throw line. His shooting form was not as uniform and textbook-perfect as Midori's, and his release point was even somewhat unpredictable. Yet thanks to his soft touch and powerful core keeping him stable while off-balance, his accuracy was astonishingly high.

Whenever Murasaki-bara was drawn out to the perimeter, Yū would keenly seize the opening, using surgical bounce passes or high lobs to assist open teammates for easy scores.

Watanabe tried several times to regain face, using his body to bully Yū, but Yū always used nimble footwork and clever Roll-off Teique. Either Watanabe's strength found nowhere to go, or Yū exploited his reckless collisions to draw offensive fouls. Watanabe was so frustrated he nearly spat blood, and the look he directed at Yū seemed ready to spit flames.

The game finally ended with a full-court pass from Yū that pierced through three defenders and found a cutting teammate with pinpoint accuracy. The score froze. Although Yū's team was completely dominated by Murasaki-bara in the paint, his powerful perimeter gravity, steady output, and exquisite playmaking ultimately carried them to a narrow victory.

The moment the whistle blew, the atmosphere in the entire gym reached a new climax. It was only a newcomer selection, but the collision of talents displayed in the scrimmage—especially Bai Ze You's dazzling techniques and unbelievable body control, along with Murasaki-bara Atsushi's suffocating Absolute Strength—was enough to set every spectator's blood ablaze.

"Monsters... They're all monsters..."

"That Bai Ze You... He's like a loach. You can't catch him at all!"

"Murasaki-bara is terrifying too. Just standing under the basket makes you afraid to go in..."

The newcomers discussed the match noisily, their eyes fixed on Yū and Murasaki-bara with awe and a trace of helplessness.

The upperclassmen looked even more serious and excited. They knew Teikō's future would become even more frightening with the addition of this new blood. Nijimura Shūzō stood at the sidelines without a hint of expression, but his tightly pressed lips and the flames burning in his eyes revealed the turmoil within him. Bai Ze You... This kid has shown far more than I expected! The ability to blend flexibility, balance, and deception into one is impossible to overestimate in actual competition!

Just then, a clear, melodious girl's voice, carrying a trace of curiosity and excitement, rang out from the slightly noisy sidelines:

"Wow! That folding floater in midair was incredible! And those Fake Moves... The data... The data can't keep up with his Rhythm Changes at all!"

Yū turned toward the voice. A pretty figure had appeared at the sideline at some point. Her pink hair was tied into a lively ponytail, and a flush from exercise colored her fair face. A pair of bright sakura-pink eyes stared at him without blinking. She held a Shorthand Notebook and pen, clearly having been taking notes the entire time. It was Momoi Satsuki.

Yū paused slightly. Momoi's gaze was clear and focused, filled with pure appreciation and curiosity toward basketball technique. It was completely different from the astonished, wary, or probing looks of everyone else. That gaze stirred a strange ripple in his heart.

Momoi seemed to realize that her voice had been a little loud. She sheepishly stuck out her tongue, then gathered her courage and turned toward Yū. With a vibrant smile as dazzling as cherry blossoms in spring, she waved her small fist enthusiastically. "You played great! Bai Ze-kun!"

That smile was pure and warm, like a ray of sunlight piercing the intense competitiveness in the gym. Yū's amber eyes shifted faintly. Facing Momoi, he gave a gentle nod. It was the first genuine, warm, unmistakable smile he had shown since entering Teikō.

That smile was like a stone dropped into a still lake, stirring entirely different ripples in someone's eyes.

"Hmph."

A low snort of obvious displeasure came from the direction of the second-floor stands. Aomine Daiki had straightened at some point, his hands buried in his pockets. His deep-blue eyes coldly swept over the silver-haired figure on the court receiving Momoi's smile, then glanced at Momoi herself, whose smile was radiant. The languor had vanished completely from his face, replaced by the displeasure of a beast whose interest had been disturbed, as though its territory had been invaded. He did not stay any longer. Turning around, he strode away from the second-floor stands beneath an oppressive air that warned others to keep their distance, his unruly dark-blue hair tracing a defiant arc through the air.

Yū naturally heard that snort and sensed the brief pause of that cold gaze. The smile on his face did not disappear. However, the warmth Momoi's smile had just kindled in his amber eyes quietly settled, replaced once more by a deeper, ancient-well stillness and focus.

Teikō's stage was vast, but it seemed destined never to be peaceful from the very beginning. Nijimura's scrutiny, Aomine's hostility, Murasaki-bara's indifference, and... Momoi's cherry-blossom-like smile that had suddenly bloomed... All of it was only the beginning. Bai Ze You withdrew his gaze and bent down to pick up his basketball bag. The selection was over, but the true challenge had only just begun.